Come With Me
by Steamboat Ghost
Summary: Coauthored by fuzzytomato. Troubled over his newly restored honor, Zuko finds solace in the familiar guise of the Blue Spirit. In a chance meeting with the Painted Lady, a friendship is forged as the two heroes seek to help the Fire Nation's neglected.
1. Rebirth

**Steamboat Ghost's Note:** This is a combination effort by fuzzytomato and myself to write a Blue Spirit/Painted Lady fic, or bluepaint if you will. We've been working on this off and on since the episode "The Painted Lady" aired and its just now reaching completion.

The idea for the incinerators used in this story for garbage disposal was directly inspired by another bluepaint fic, _Mask and _Veil, written by MacFie and Mahatista. Its a great story and I'd recommend checking it out if you like Blue Spirit/Painted lady interaction.

**Fuzzytomato's Note: **This fic is the brain child of myself and Steamboat Ghost. It takes place after the episode "Sokka's Master", and before the disappointing episode "The Beach", taking the plot in a comletely new direction. We've been kicking this idea around since "The Painted Lady" aired but both have been working on bigger projects aka _Brothers in Arms_ for fuzzytomato and _The Swiftly Tilting Balance_ for Steamboat Ghost.

Please read and review and let us know what you think. Thanks in advance.

* * *

Ch 1: Rebirth 

"The situation in Shanxi can no longer be ignored. Coal production in the village has dropped to an unprecedented low and the citizens, in an open act of treason against their nation and Fire Lord, refuse to work. Only so much can be done until someone from the palace has to be sent to take care of the situation. Now is the time, Prince Zuko, for this setback to be taken care of and I want you, my son, to take care of it."

Ozai's words continue to echo in Zuko's mind as he walks down a long, ornate passageway in the palace, heels clicking against the stone floor in rhythm to his purposeful stride, amber eyes narrow and unyielding as he takes no notice of the servants that scurry out of his way. His thoughts linger on the conversation with his father and the undertaking set before him and though he has convinced himself he is welcome back in the Fire Nation, he cannot help but absently wonder about his father's true motives. He has only been home a short time and already the Fire Lord is sending him away. Though his father seems generally pleased with him and he knows he should be honored to have such responsibility thrust upon him so soon after returning home, he remains wary.

He is to travel to Shanxi with a group of officials and soldiers to get the village's coal production moving smoothly again and though he knows the basics of the situation, he has little idea on how he is going to accomplish the task. Ozai was more concerned with his demands to give the people no leeway, no relief from their punishments until coal production reached higher levels than before, rather than giving Zuko specific instructions. This wasn't going to be easy, but hopefully the mayor of the troublesome town would provide the information needed. Regardless of his doubts and questions, Zuko knows he will get the job done; he is his father's loyal son.

"Mai," Zuko states expectantly as he enters the room, pushing aside the heavy red curtain blocking the occupants from view to reveal his girlfriend sitting on a plush cushion, idly toying with a stiletto.

She turns and gives the prince her attention, facial features morphing from bored to interested, eyes lighting at his appearance. Zuko, however, stops short because both Azula and Ty Lee are present, directing their attention to him as well.

His piercing gaze settles on the two extra girls and he waits, silently urging them to take the hint. They only stare back, Ty Lee with a wide mischievous smile and Azula with her ever present smirk.

"Do you mind?" he finally asks in annoyance, his voice slicing through the silence.

"Not at all," Ty Lee replies with an open grin, propping her head up in her hands to gaze at the prince from where she lays. Azula elbows her in the side, eliciting a cry of pain from the acrobat before she gets up and leaves the room in a huff, the curtain flapping madly at her exit.

Azula gets up to leave as well, but lingers as Zuko walks over to his girlfriend.

Placing his hands on her arms as she stands to meet him, Zuko speaks, "My father is sending me to Shanxi to help restore order. I don't know how long I'll be away."

Smiling, Mai wraps her arms around him in an embrace. "I'll miss you."

"Will you come with me?" he asks hopefully.

She pushes away from him, a look of clear disgust on her face, "To Shanxi? That place is a dump. No thanks."

Azula, listening in as she makes her delayed exit, takes this opportunity to turn around and speak up, "Mai, how could you pass up a chance to leave the palace like this?"

Both Mai and Zuko turn to regard the princess in surprise, neither knowing she had been listening in on their conversation. Zuko frowns at his sister's presence as Mai attempts to read her expression.

"How could you make Zuko go alone?" Azula continues, walking towards her friend and placing a hand on each of their shoulders, "Since we got here we've all been cooped up in the palace; we should all go to Shanxi. I'm sure dad won't mind."

Zuko is surprised by what Azula says and Mai sighs her response, "I'll pack my things."

As she walks past Azula, she glances at her out the corner of her eye, a look which Azula surreptitiously returns. Zuko notices nothing as they pass each other and his eyes trail Mai as she leaves the room.

"Thanks," he says after she disappears in the doorway, turning to smile genuinely at his sister, something he can't remember ever doing.

"I just want you to be happy," Azula replies, matching her brother's smile.

* * *

A coach driven by Komodo Rhinos transports the Fire Nation's prince, princess, and two nobles into Shanxi. It's a large town, the largest village in this part of the Fire Nation, and it's in severe decay. The living conditions are terrible; stagnant water plagues the streets and all a manner of garbage litters the alleyways. 

Seated next to Mai, Zuko looks out the slit of the coach's window curtain to see the poverty of the place and to see the people he would be dealing with.

"Whats that smell?" Ty Lee asks, holding a hand over her nose as the odor drifts into the carriage.

"Garbage. Waste," Azula answers coldly, "The incinerators were shut down weeks ago in retaliation for the workers strike. Without any way to dispose of the trash, it just sits here."

"It's making everyone sick," Zuko comments while staring at the people who wonder feebly through the streets about their business, staggering and coughing, "Why would they do this to themselves?"

"They claimed they were already sick, that working in the coal mines to give the Fire Nation the needed resources to end this war was too uncomfortable for them," Azula explains, "They demanded better working conditions and medical supplies that just aren't available for people of their status. When they refused to get back to work, the incinerators were shut down and their food supply taken away."

"They're worse off now than they were before."

"They brought this on themselves, it serves them right. Maybe waiting in the ration distribution lines and wallowing in their own filth will teach them a lesson," Azula says as she shakes her head, "It's shameful really; even Earth Kingdom peasants behave better."

Zuko remembers how, not so long ago, he was living among the Earth Kingdom peasants she referred to. He had been thrown into the life of a refugee with only the clothes on his back, attempting to live with the barest of amenities. He wasn't so different from any other displaced Earth Kingdom citizen, at the time. But he didn't belong there. This is where he belonged, with the Fire Nation, with the royal elite, with the ruling class.

"Really, Zuko, I'm surprised by all the questions. I'd think you'd be on top of this since father put you in charge." Azula states, regarding her brother with concern, "You're not surprised by any of this, are you?"

"No," he answers simply, continuing to gaze out at the town slowly sliding by.

"Hey," Mai speaks up as she pulls him gently away from the window, "Don't worry about it, everything will work out fine."

Smiling, Zuko wraps an arm around her, thankful for the distraction from the world around him.

"Don't get too busy," Azula says, interrupting him as he leans in to kiss his beloved, "We're here."

Stepping out of the carriage, Zuko looks up at the statehouse. It's larger than any other structure in the city, with imported marble gleaming in the sun as well as intricately carved dragons embedded in the design. A large wall rings the estate with an imposing wrought iron gate that the carriage had pulled through and was now creaking closed behind them. Opulence at its finest, sticking out like a sore thumb considering its dire backdrop.

Though it's significantly cleaner here where the town's officials reside, the high walls cannot keep out the stench from the decaying town. Zuko thinks to demand that the garbage disposing incinerators be made operational again, but recalls his father's instructions to withdraw no punishment from the people. Zuko was just going have to get used to the smell.

"Welcome, welcome!" a squat little man shouts as he runs down the steps that lead up to the building's entrance, "As mayor of Shanxi its my privilege to welcome the Fire Nation's two finest war heroes, aside from the Fire Lord himself of course!"

Coming to halt in front of both Azula and Zuko, the man makes a quick bow before grinning openly at the siblings, wiping his sweating forehead with a cloth.

"Is this how you greet the prince and princess of the Fire Nation?" Azula asks, standing over the mayor.

"Apologies, princess," the man quickly spits out, dropping to his knees and pressing his face to the ground, "It's an honor to serve under Prince Zuko and Princess Azula. I know if anyone can get this town back on its feet, it's you."

"You can get up," Zuko says, looking down at the man, still unused to people throwing themselves before him.

The man, still on his hands and knees, throws a thankful look up at Zuko and turns his head to look up at Azula. Seeing her approving glance, he returns to his feet, his grin returning full force.

"I really must humbly thank you for your efforts in the war. I understand that using your combined intelligence and bending prowess that you defeated the Avatar and conquered Ba Sing Se. As a collector of Earth Kingdom artifacts, primitive as they may be, I've found that since the walled city is now under Fire Nation rule I'm able to import them at a much grander scale than ever before. You have no idea how difficult it was beforehand—"

Zuko's gaze narrows as unbidden and unwelcome images and feelings from the day Ba Sing Se fell course through him.

"We are here to solve _your_ problems with coal production so there is a faster end to this war, not reminisce about the past events of Ba Sing Se!" he snaps, interrupting the little man's chattering.

The mayor cowers under the fierce amber gaze.

"Yes, your highness," he squeaks, then manages, "I fear that the problem lies with the workers. You see, our efforts to control them have had little success."

"And why is that?" Azula asks calmly, glancing at the tense posture of her brother.

"Its nonsense really but," he leans in and his voice lowers, "they refuse to get back to work because they believe some spirit they call the Painted Lady is going to save them. Its all over the country side."

"How provincial," the Fire Princess smirks while studying her nails.

"Yes, well, now that you're here I'm sure everything will begin running smoothly again and," he says as he wipes his forehead again, "if you'll excuse my saying, this talk of spirits is making me thirsty, for a different kind spirits mind you. I'm sure you are tired from your journey. Please do come inside and we can continue our talk over some food and wine."

The little nervous man claps his hands and several servants rush forward to gather the foursome's belongings. Noticing Zuko's increasingly troubled expression, Mai steps up and wraps her arm around his, firmly placing herself at his side as a comforting gesture. She feels the prince slightly relax as they walk up the stairs and enter the house.

* * *

Zuko groans and turns in the silk covered bed, attempting to get comfortable. After a few moments, he turns again, and finally gives up, staring at the plaster ceiling, his mind spinning 

Why does he feel this way? He's actually getting along with Azula, he has his father's favor, he has Mai's affection, his assassin is tracking down the Avatar; everything is perfect. He has everything he's ever wanted. But none of this feels like he thought it would. He should be happy, he should be confident, but he's only lost and confused, more than ever before and he doesn't know why.

For some reason, his thoughts cannot be stilled and they seem to focus on his uncle, his decision in the crystal caves. Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, he sighs and once again rolls amognst the pillows and sheets trying desperately to forget.

He needs his uncle. Iroh always knew what do say, what wisdom to share, and what comfort to give. Even if complete peace of mind was out of reach, Uncle's voice alone was enough to comfort him. But he was gone.

Zuko closes his eyes and shudders. Iroh had ignored him for his decisions when he visited him in the prison. It had been Iroh's choice to ignore him when he visited. Iroh had rejected him.

Getting up from lying sleepless in his bed, Zuko crosses the room and opens the door. Looking down the darkened hallway, he decides to take a walk to calm himself.

Shadows dance on the walls as he walks in silence, trying to clear his mind but unable to escape the tormenting feelings that plague him.

A door slides open and her turns in surprise to see Ty Lee.

She's also surprised but flashes her ever present grin, saying, "Hey Zuko."

"Hi," Zuko returns the greeting, not meeting the girl's gaze.

"What're you up to, shouldn't you be in bed?" she questions innocently.

"Couldn't sleep," he answers simply, ready to be finished with conversation..

"I bet Mai could help..." Ty Lee replies, grinning mischievously.

Zuko looks up and stares at the girl a moment before walking off without gracing her with a response. She only smirks before retreating back into her room.

He finds it annoying that the girl is so interested in his relationship with Mai. He loves Mai, but that's between him and her. Private. Even so, right now he needs more than Mai to soothe him. She's a part of the feelings he wants to escape, so he searches for comfort elsewhere.

He walks through the empty foyer of the statehouse, hears a noise, and walks silently to investigate.

Stepping through the open doorway, he watches as a pair of officials load several large crates into the room from a nearby passageway leading outside.

Noticing him, one of the men states, "Imports from the Earth Kingdom. The mayor loves the stuff."

Zuko merely nods his response, ignoring the man's disrespect in not addressing him as the prince, and watches as they finish bringing in the boxes and leave. Alone, he ventures up to one the crates and reads the label.

'Festival Decor'.

Prying the lid open, he pushes it aside before curiously pawing through the packaging material and the artifacts inside. Just a bunch of junk he decides.

Suddenly, his hand freezes as he spies a familiar splash of blue and white. Removing a clump of packing hay, a vacant smile gazes back at him amid the box's contents. He stares at it, captivated, and slowly allows his fingertips to wander over the smooth ceramic surface. Reverently, he wraps his fingers around it and holds the mask up at eye level.

Without thinking, he stows the mask in his clothing next to his rapidly beating heart. Quickly and clumsily he straightens up the items in the crate and replaces the lid.

He rushes back to his room, not running but keeping a determined pace with one intention in mind. Closing the door behind him, he pulls out the mask once again and regards it.

* * *

The Blue Spirit dashes through the night, duel swords strapped on his back. He's unsure of his destination, but it doesn't matter. He feels free. Free of all thoughts, worries, expectations. He pauses on the edge of a rooftop, staring down into the dimly lit square below. 

Grabbing the edge of the rooftop, he tumbles over the side and swings down into the open window of the building. The room is empty and he stealthily slides along the wall to a doorway and peeks through. He sees an empty hallway, lit by a single lantern and lined with more doors. A stairwell is situated on one side and he carefully moves along the walkway, looking down the stairs for any sign of another person.

He feels the rush that comes with sneaking around. It feels good, relieving even.

He hears a voice in one of the apartments and silently cracks the door open to peak inside.

"Mommy, I'm hungry," a girl cries.

The mother sits leaning against the wall on the palette they share, holding her daughter and pressing her lips to the child's forehead as the father strokes the girls hair saying softly, "Tomorrow honey, we can turn in the ration ticket tomorrow."

The Blue Spirit backs away silently from the doorway.

These people were suffering. Not just this family, but all of them. Fire Lord Ozai had commanded that they be subdued for struggling to eke out a living and there was little Prince Zuko could do to help them if they refused to work. But the Blue Spirit couldn't stand by and do nothing while they starved.

Knowing that the state house kitchen was well stocked with food, the Blue Spirit dives back out the window, grasping the ledge nimbly with his fingers and flings himself back onto the rooftops. He sprints across them with ease, staying within the shadows until he finds himself standing in front of the mayor's home.

Without his mask he is a guest in this place, a welcomed member of the upper class, but behind the blue and white he is a thief, unwelcome vile filth, enemy of the Fire Nation. Strange the difference a ceramic façade makes.

Slipping around the back, he passes by the boxes of Earth Kingdom bounty with a smirk then darts into the hallway. Keeping his eyes wide for guards, he stays close to the ornate walls, using the occasional tapestry as cover before ducking into the kitchen storage area. Swiftly, he grabs a burlap sack, and fills it with fruits, breads, and cheeses, enough to feed the small family for several days.

What would feed the mayor, his officials, and their royal guests for breakfast is enough for a family to survive for a week and the Blue Spirit absently wonders if the cooking staff will even realize the food is missing. The thought causes an unexpected twist in his gut that feels suspiciously like guilt and shame.

Hefting the sack onto his shoulder, he peeks around the door frame only to snap quickly back into the shadows. He sucks in a breath as two guards walk down the hallway, their heavy red armor creaking as they near the open door.

"Hey," one asks the other, "you hungry? We can check to see what they've laid out for breakfast and sneak a morsel."

"Good idea," the other responds, "I could use some food."

The Blue Spirit looks around wildly for a way to escape or someplace to hide. Rocketing across the room, he steps on a table, upsetting a teapot, before leaping upwards.

"Did you hear that?" the hungry guard asks, walking into the room, lighting flame in his palm.

They look around anxiously but only spy the teapot on its side and find nothing else out of place.

The Blue Spirit holds his breath, spread between two rafters, high in the ceiling, the bag of food resting on his shoulder blades. Sweat beading on his forehead and rolling down his back, he grips the beams in his hands and presses his feet against them, leg muscles trembling, burning as he waits for the guards to leave.

"Oh man, they didn't lay out any food," one pouts, leaning against a counter.

The other, flame still lit, walks around, still looking for the source of the disturbance.

The sack of food suddenly shifts precariously as the Blue Spirit's hand slips. He turns his head, and sees an errant moon peach teetering. Gritting his teeth, he attempts to shift his weight but instead stares in horror as the fruit falls.

"Let's get out of here," the guard states, heading for the door, his colleague following him.

Behind them, the moon peach hits the floor, breaking the silence like a firecracker exploding in the sky.

The guards whirl around, flames lit, seeking the cause of the noise. A squeak in the corner confirms their fears.

"Elephant-Rat!" one of them yells, "I knew it!"

"Gross! Kill it! Kill it!"

The first guard makes a jump at the animal but it scurries away in the darkness.

"Oh hey! A moon peach. Score!" the second guard says as he grabs the fruit off the floor, rubs it on his sleeve, and takes a bite.

The Blue Spirit watches the two unobservant guards leave and listens for their footfalls to disappear down the corridor.

Allowing himself a huge breath of relief, he silently drops to the floor. The thought that he could have avoided the predicament in the first place by taking off the mask and pretending to be getting a late night snack as Prince Zuko didn't even occur to him.

Making his way off the state house grounds, he runs in the starlight back to the family that inspired his nighttime escapade. He sits on their roof, and scribbles a message on the bag of food. He slips into the window, sneaks down the hall and places it at the door. With a swift knock, he escapes.

The door opens and the father looks down in shock at the large bag. Picking up the scrap of parchment he reads.

"Enjoy this. Save your ration ticket for another day."

"Who is it, darling?" the child's mother asks as she joins her husband.

He hands her the paper and she gasps.

The little girl squeezes between their legs and opens the sack, eyes widening in delight. She reaches in and pulls out a large piece of fruit. Biting into it, she sighs and allows the juices to run down her chin.

"It was the Painted Lady," she informs her mother and father after they bring the bag into their meager apartment, "It had to be. She's helped us!"

"Whomever it was, they deserve our gratitude," the mother chimes, wiping the fruit juice from her daughter's face.

The little girl runs to their only window and looks out, sees no one but whispers regardless, "Thank you."

The wind carries the heartfelt thanks upward to where the Blue Spirit still sits, listening. His work done, he stands and runs off into the night.

Dropping through the window to his own room, he crouches in the darkness a moment to be sure no one is there waiting for him. Deciding the coast is clear, he stands, and unties the mask from the back of his head. Taking it off, he hides it with his swords where no one will look.

His tormented conscience salved for now, he collapses in his bed, falling asleep almost immediately. He'd need his rest for tomorrow. Prince Zuko had a lot of work to do.


	2. Meeting

Ch:2 Meeting

The Painted Lady grasps the sack slung across her shoulder tightly, absently wringing the cloth in her hands, adrenaline coursing through her veins, heart thudding in her chest, and palms slick with sweat. Her veil flutters in time with her rapid breath as she cautiously steps through the maze of boxes and items, careful not to make a sound as she attempts to exit the storage building.

It was a successful outing so far. She had found and gathered the food and supplies she had come for, now all she has to do is make a quiet getaway.

The warehouse is dark with only slim trails of moonlight streaming in through high windows, making it almost impossible for her to find a way through the myriad of objects. Though they were a hindrance, those objects were the reason she had picked this particular building in the first place. She had heard of the overabundance of waiting exports due to a coal shortage and with a few seemingly innocent questions, determined their whereabouts.

The bag is full, heavy, and its weight rests against her shoulder blades as she picks her way toward the door, a determined smirk on her lips. Her destination within reach, she turns to give the expansive area, filled to the brim with sundries headed for the war front, one last awe filled look. So many riches yet the people of the nation suffer.

With a sigh, she spins on her heel and takes a step, not seeing the wayward moon peach that had managed to escape a bundle. Her foot slips out from under her, weight shifting, balance skewed, the large sack on her back only adds to the chaos as she pitches backward. Blue eyes wide with distress, the Painted Lady gasps in horror and claws at the nearest available crate in a last ditch effort to stay on her feet. It fails, and she falls, causing precariously perched merchandise to collapse around her with a loud crash.

Immediately, torches are lit and she hears guards shouting, the sound of their footsteps advancing on her position. With no need for silence now, she pulls herself up, grabs the sack and dashes toward the exit, using her bending water to clear her path and knock things out of her escape route. Careful not to slip on her gown or snag the fabric of her costume, she darts out the door, into the humid night air.

The guards round the corner only in time to see the silhouette of a lady in the entranceway, back lit by the moon with a trail of fallen goods leading to her. She turns to look at them, radiant, dress and hair pulled by the wind, before she disappears into the night.

Scrambling out the door in a pack, ready to take down the intruder, the first man comes to an abrupt halt as he confronts the thick blanket of fog growing in the air. Those behind the man fail to realize he has stopped and crash into him, sending him sprawling into the mist.

On his hands and knees, the guard glances about the fog fearfully as rain drops fall from the hidden sky above. A flame births in the man's hand, but the orange glow only reflects off the vaporous air.

"Do you see anything?" one of the guards asks from the storage buildings entrance, huddled with the others as if some unknown beast lurked in the fog.

"N-n-no," the man stutters, eyes wide and fearful, "She's gone!"

The Painted Lady stands on the rooftop above, listening to the guards' fearful remarks. It worked. Using her waterbending to bend the rain into an ice platform, she had neatly transported herself to the rooftop unseen before creating an enveloping fog to keep the foolish guards busy.

Turning away from the guards' whispering below, she travels the rooftops, making her way through the crowded village. Staying close the shadows and watching her footing on the slick tiles, not wanting a repeat of the incident in the storage building, she carefully makes her way to the poorest district. Dropping to the street, she scans her surroundings then ducks into a home.

The residents look up, startled, but relax when they recognize the woman from the rumors. The Painted Lady is as surprised as they are, hardly expecting to find anyone awake. Two small children hide behind the folds of their grandmother's gown, peeking out with wide eyes to see the intruder.

"You're the Painted Lady," an old woman gasps, a timid smile on her face as she sets down a chipped tea cup.

The masquerading spirit nods, veil fluttering as she does so, her heart wrenching as she takes in their meager surroundings and sets the bag down on the floor. Seeing the empty cupboards, the paltry crust of bread on the counter, she knows they'll benefit from her nighttime escapade.

As she turns to leave, a little boy runs up to her from behind his grandmother's dress and stops at the base of the lady's flowing skirt.

"You're a hero," he lisps.

The Painted Lady turns, smiles, and bows wordlessly, glancing up at the old woman and the little girl who continues to hide before slipping out the door. The little boy runs forward, joined by his shyer sister, hoping for one last glimpse of the veiled guardian of the weak and oppressed but as they stick their heads out the door, they find only a thin mist hovering in the night air.

* * *

"Katara." 

She looks up from the stew pot she's leaning over to see her brother approaching. He has that no nonsense look and she stands up straight to meet the complaint and demands she knows are coming.

"I just got back from the village," Sokka states as he comes to a stop in front of her, extending his hand to show her a piece of parchment, "Have you seen this?"

She takes the paper from him and lets out a quiet gasp. It's a picture of her. No, not her, but of the Painted Lady. It's hardly recognizable, only a shadowy outline of a veiled woman, but that it represents her is unquestionable. She glances over the words and stops, mouth agape, when she sees the reward for her capture is one thousand gold pieces.

"You were out again last night, weren't you?" Sokka asks taking in the dark circles around Katara's eyes and her tired expression, "This is getting out of hand, look how public you're becoming. Next thing you know they're going to figure out you're a waterbender and then it's only a matter of time before they realize you're with the Avatar."

"Sokka, this is important, do you know how expensive it is for these people just to eat, let alone how hard life is for them?" she states, defending herself desperately, "I haven't been showing off my bending; no water whips, no pentapus tentacles, no ice daggers, just like you said. They won't figure it out!"

Rubbing his forehead with his palm and closing his eyes, Sokka sighs, "Okay, okay. I know this is important to you and I said I'd stand by you." He pauses for moment, as if lost in thought, then starts, "It's just, if you're caught—"

"I won't be caught!" Katara interrupts.

"Listen," Sokka starts again, raising a finger to scold his sister before being interrupted by a shout from Aang.

"Sokka, messenger hawk!"

Turning to face the approaching airbender, Sokka asks incredulously, "A message? For us?"

Aang nods his head and holds out his arm where the hawk perches on twisted cloth around the boy's forearm. Opening the lid of the message casket, Sokka unravels the scroll and holds up with both hands to examine.

"It's from dad!" he suddenly exclaims, eyes roving over the paper.

"What does it say?" Katara asks, eager to get away from their conversation concerning her secret identity.

"Dear son," Sokka reads, "I'm afraid we can't meet in the place arranged for our tour of the capital. I hear the village Shanxi is nice this year. Hope to see you there in a fortnight."

"Tour of the capital? Maybe it wasn't for us after all," Aang states, generally confused.

"No, it's written in code," Toph speaks up for the first time, walking over to her three friends, "This way, if the message gets intercepted, they won't know about the invasion."

"She's right," Sokka confirms, "And I'm pretty sure he's trying to tell us that the rendezvous point has changed. We're going to meet near the village Shanxi instead."

* * *

"What's that awful smell?" Toph asks, wrinkling her nose at the stench. 

"I think its coming from the town," Sokka guesses.

"No, I think it _is_ the town," Aang replies with disgust.

Katara plugs her nose and stares wide eyed at the disgusting state of the streets as the four friends enter the gates of Shanxi. Puddles of who knew what pool in the streets, flies buzz over heaps of trash, and all around a fowl odor continues to bombard their nostrils.

Making a face, Sokka comments, "Toph, I think this might be a good time for you to start wearing shoes with bottoms."

"Ew!" Toph shrieks as she steps in some of the fowl waste and blindly scrambles onto Sokka's back. She wraps her strong arms around his neck and hangs on while Sokka attempts to pry her off. After a few moments of struggling, he gives up and resigns himself to carrying the blind girl.

"Let's just get some supplies and get out of here," Aang suggests, taking awkward steps to avoid an exceptionally tall and putrid mass of refuse.

As they walk through the village, Katara notices a long snaking line of sickly,pale people outside a rundown, crumbling building. Children stand with their parents, coughing miserably, whimpering and crying.

"I'm sorry, theres no more room!" the hospital caretaker informs everyone, blocking the entrance, hands held up to stop the crowding, ill townsfolk "You'll have to wait for our current patients to leave."

Katara turns from the tiny hospital, looking to see if her friends are as shocked, dismayed and sympathetic to the sick as she is but they only continue their determined walk through the town, seemingly ignoring the commotion beside them.

With a sigh, she hangs her head, staring at the mud caked street as she trails her friends, her heart heavy. She knows what she has to do.

* * *

Sitting on a rock, Katara carefully presses her fingers into a bowl of thick red paint and meticulously begins tracing lines across her shoulders and arms. It's a lot of work, and being honest with herself, it isn't that important; a few red stripes on her arms and neck weren't going to hide her identity. 

But it isn't about that. With each painted line on her body comes the feeling that she is becoming someone else, that she in't just Katara in disguise. She is transforming into the Painted Lady, a hero. She is becoming someone everyone knows will help the weak and less fortunate.

At first it was just the little village of Jang Hui. They were clearly suffering and their guardian water spirit the Painted Lady was the perfect disguise for her. She'd helped them almost without a second thought, faking Appa's illness so she could heal and feed the people for as long as possible. She even let Aang help her destroy the factory.

But Sokka had been right. She had caused a bigger disturbance than she meant and had risked Aang's identity as well as the safety of their entire group.

She hates to see people suffer and has always felt compelled to help, but she'd never done anything this reckless. She'd met Earth Kingdom refugees living in much the same predicaments as the people of the Fire Nation during her travels, but only now does she risk her own safety and the safety of her companions. Why would she do this for her enemy's people?

_He_ did this to her. Before him, she thought she could help, heal, and comfort anyone and didn't need to prove it. She hated him for taking that away from her; of everything he did, that hurt the most. He made her failure in every respect; she had been ready to do anything to help him but he threw it all back at her. She wasn't good enough, she was inadequate. But he was wrong and if she had to dress up like the Painted Lady and risk everything to heal the entire Fire Nation, just to prove to herself that the prince was a fool, she would.

"Psst, hey, Katara."

Katara whirls around at the whispered exclamation, too lost in her thoughts to hear the intruder, swiping a finger across her cheek leaving a smear of red paint as she does so.

"Aang?" she questions, not because she's not sure if it's him but because of the wide hat that hides his face, "what are you doing up?"

"You're going on one of your Painted Lady missions, right?" he whispers, keeping his head down.

"Yeah..." Katara trails off, curious at Aang's strange behavior, "Aang, why are you all dressed up?"

"Because..." Aang whispers, grinning from under his hat before looking up abruptly and striking a heroic pose, "I'm the Painted Gentleman, spiritual accomplice of the Painted Lady! Together there's no wrong we can't put right, no disease we can't cure, no hotman we can't handle!"

Katara slaps a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out in laughter. Standing in a flowing gray robe, Aang grins hopefully at her from under his conical hat, face marred with splotches of red paint.

"Have you been getting into my makeup?" Katara giggles from behind her hand.

"Maybe," Aang admits with a bashful grin, scratching his arm to cope with his embarrassment.

Wiping the smear of paint from her face, Katara shakes her head with a wide smile before turning around to finish applying her makeup. Aang watches her from behind as she carefully draws a swirling stripe on her cheek, unsure what her response means. Finished painting her face, Katara stands and walks over to Aang.

"It's very sweet of you to dress up like this," she says, smiling at his goofy costume but understanding that what she's about to say will hurt, "but I can't let you come with me."

"Katara, I can help, we can do this together!" Aang objects, eager to be with her, "I'm the Avatar, I'm supposed to help people. Let me come too!"

She can't let Aang risk his identity being revealed. His secret is too valuable to the invasion on the day of Black Sun. But even more important than Aang, she needs to do this herself.

After destroying the factory with him in Jang Hui, she couldn't help but feel empty. As Aang joked and made explosion noises beside her on their walk back to camp that night, she had been lost in thought, wondering why helping others ceased being so redeeming with him at her side. She felt shamefully selfish, not only for wishing she had destroyed the factory without Aang, but also for helping people to make herself feel better.

Pushing the thought from her mind, she reasons that she is going to be using her healing abilities and Aang won't be able to help anyway. She'd make it up to him somehow.

"But what if something happens?" Katara asks, "Aang, you can't risk getting caught if you're going to defeat the Fire Lord."

Sighing dejectedly, Aang hangs his head.

"I just wanted to come with you," he says sorrowfully as he drags a sleeve across his face in an attempt to remove the makeup but only managing to smear it.

"I know, but this is something I have to do alone," Katara replies, handing him a cloth to aid in his transformation from the Painted Gentleman back to Aang. She leans in and kisses him tenderly on the cheek. "Stay in camp, for me," she whispers before pulling away.

The red makeup remaining on Aang's face hides his blush as he nods his head absently.

Smiling, Katara picks up her veiled hat and places it on her head.

* * *

The Painted Lady kneels before a man crippled with illness, her hands glowing with healing water above his chest to clear his lungs and ease his breathing. He's sick, just like the others that lay nearby in the rundown hospital, no doubt from the repulsive state of living the people are faced with, and there is little she can do except ease their pain without the aid of real medicine. 

These people were here for simple care: a hand to wipe their sweating brows, a spoon to feed their starved stomachs, a soothing voice to calm their fevered dreams. Other than common herbs, the medical supplies needed to cure them were absent. This wasn't a hospital, she realizes, it was a place for the ill to receive care until they took their last shuddering breaths.

The Blue Spirit enters the hospital with two bags of stolen medicine that the townspeople are unable to afford strapped to his body. Silently he walks through the building's empty foyer, through the shadows and down the hall. He stops dead in his tracks at the open doorway and watches a pale blue light shimmer beyond the silhouette of a woman across the room. It's enticing, as is the woman, and he halts in the doorway, captivated.

The Painted Lady turns and lets out a startled gasp. The Blue Spirit curses himself for being mesmerized by the light as he drops the bags of medicine and runs down the all to escape.

She doesn't know who the stranger is but doesn't believe he's up to any good and she races after him, ignoring his dropped parcels.

Sprinting now as she flies out the entrance of the hospital with her gown trailing behind her, the Painted Lady sees the intruder take a side street and makes pursuit.

If only she could bend! She would have been able to easily freeze the prowler in place with all the standing, stagnant water that polluted the city. But she had promised Sokka that she would only bend if she was in a life or death situation, and pursuing this masked man hardly seemed to threaten her well being.

But it could threaten the well being of the hospital patients, she thinks, and she believes their lives are equal to hers. Careful to keep her bending subtle as she pursues the fleeing stranger, she takes a deep breath, and throws her hands forward to freeze the puddles of water under the his feet.

The Blue Spirit slips, attributes it to the wet stone road, and catches his balance as he continues to flee from his unknown pursuer. He's fast, but so is the Painted lady, and she has little trouble keeping up with him until he passes around a corner and disappears.

She stops, panting for breath as she rounds the corner and looks around franticly to find where he'd gone to.

Suddenly he's behind her, knocking her hat and veil to the ground as he crosses his broadswords threateningly against her neck. Instinctively, she tilts her head back into his shoulder to avoid the blades. Pressed against him, she feels his breath skirting the shell of her ear, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with hers. The Blue Spirit holds the Painted Lady in a deadly embrace and neither move.

Slowly the spirit withdraws his swords, wary of any sudden movements from the lady as he takes a step back. The Painted Lady places both hands on her neck, checking it for injury but not finding a scratch. He could have killed her.

She stoops down slowly, picks up her hat and places it on her head, hiding her face with the veil before turning to look at him. He stands upright, staring back at her with both swords drawn but resting at his sides. Recognition dawns on her.

"You're the Blue Spirit."

She doesn't ask because she knows and she keeps her voice low and calm. Low because she knows she must keep her true identity secret. Calm because she wants him to know she isn't afraid or angry with him. He didn't want to hurt her.

"You're the Painted Lady."

He suspected it from the moment he saw her and speaks hoarsely, disguising his voice, because no one can know his true identity. He knows of her from his conversations with the mayor and from the murmurings of the townspeople. She is the hero of the people, a healer of the sick and feeder of the hungry. He finds that admirable.

They regard each other in silence.

She hasn't the faintest idea to his true identity. Whatever face belongs to the man is hidden by the mask. But the Blue Spirit; him she knew. He was an enemy of the Fire Nation; a rogue warrior wanted for crimes against the evil she sought to defeat. He was breathtaking.

He's heard the rumors of the Painted Lady but didn't take them seriously until now. She wasn't a spirit, he was sure of that, but he could not identify the woman before him. The veil that hung from her hat left her face a mystery and he could only barely make out the red markings that swirled on her cheeks and chin. She was beautiful.

"Will you help these people?" he finally asks, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," she replies confidently.

"Then come with me."


	3. Accomplices

**Fuzzytomato's Note: **Hi. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope you enjoy this next chapter. Please don't forget to drop us a line.

**Steamboat Ghost's Note:** Thanks to everyone who's reviewing, we really love hearing your thoughts and reactions. I've made three bluepaint screen shot manipulations and I thought I'd share with you readers. Remove the spaces to view:

http:// server3. uploadit. org/ files/ Ceilick-TooClose. jpg

http:// server3. uploadit. org/ files/ Ceilick-MaskAndVeil. jpg

http:// server2. uploadit. org/ files/ Ceilick-Undefeatable. jpg

* * *

Ch: 3 Accomplices 

The Blue Spirit leads the Painted Lady back to the hospital she had chased him from only minutes before, winding through low lit streets and alleys, avoiding known guard hangouts and anyone else foolish enough to be out past the mandated curfew. If the rumors were true, and he desperately hoped they were, the mysterious figure behind him could use the medicine he had brought to help the people inside. He wasn't a healer and had just hoped the doctors would put the medical supplies to good use, but he'd much rather put his trust in this woman, known for her gentle healing and kindness, than employed caretakers that were more than likely on the mayor's payroll.

The Painted Lady follows the Blue Spirit without question despite her uncertainty. He is a stranger after all, so she stays wary, blue eyes darting beneath her disguise, ready to run if need be, but she's heard the stories about him, seen his wanted poster and hesitantly places her trust in them for now. She doesn't know what he was doing at the hospital in the first place, but she knows she'll soon find out.

Suddenly, he stops and she runs into his back, too busy concentrating on their surroundings than on the figure in front of her. As the Painted Lady adjusts her hat and veil to keep her face hidden, the Blue Spirit turns and holds a finger up to his mouth, signaling her to be quiet.

Turning back, he looks across the street to see the hospital building, now with lights in the windows. Wordlessly, he waves a hand for the Painted Lady to follow, and they dash across the street, mindful of their footing on the slick stone.

"I don't know who'd want to break in, but I'm glad you're here."

The voice comes from inside and both spirit and lady pause to listen.

"It's our job. Whoever was here is breaking curfew and must be caught."

The two eavesdroppers move away from the window, traveling silently around the building through the dirty alleyway, sidestepping debris and rubbish. Swiftly, and quietly, the Blue Spirit crawls through an open window. The Painted Lady watches him disappear into the darkness inside and after a few moments wonders if he really did vanish.

Placing both hands on the windowsill, she leans in, squinting, trying to discern his shape amid the shadows

Suddenly the grinning blue mask appears again, startling her, and she takes a step back to regain her composure. He motions for her to come through and she does so as elegantly as she can manage with the baggy gown and wide straw hat.

Carefully they walk through the corridor, each creak of the wooden floor deafening. As they go, the Painted Lady looks down a hallway and, realizing it's where they want to go, taps her companion on the shoulder. He turns and she motions to the direction they should be moving. She takes two steps before she feels the Blue Spirit's hand grip her arm and whirl her back around the corner, wrapping her in his strong embrace.

She struggles against him in angry protest but stops when she hears footsteps in the hall and the sniffle of one of the patrolmen. The Blue Spirit pulls her further into the shadows and they back away to another hallway as the pathway she had chosen begins to lighten with torch glow.

He releases her and they try to take another path, avoiding the offices and snaking through the corridors, until they finally arrive in the room where they first met.

Bending over, the Blue Spirit picks up one of the bags of medicine he had previously delivered and shows it to the Painted Lady. She accepts it, looks inside, and nods.

So that was it, she thinks, this was his way of helping. Her heart flutters at the prospect of having a nighttime ally now that she knows the stories are indeed true. She thought she would feel intruded upon by his presence, the same way it felt with Aang in Jang Hui, but this was different, he was a stranger and she was ready to prove herself to him.

She gives him an appreciative smile that she knows he probably can't see through her veil, but it makes her feel good to acknowledge his selfless deed.

Taking the other bag as well, she moves down the aisle of patients, but pauses, feeling his eyes still on her. Turning, she looks at him, hoping he'll understand. He can't know she's a bender. She can't let him see, even if it's just healing.

He seems to understand and turns to stand in the doorway of the room.

He feels drawn to turn and watch, but he resists. He would hate to destroy the fragile trust that had already developed between them by openly defying her unspoken wish. Besides, their safety depends on him keeping watch. Yet, he knows she is going to do _it_ again and he is intrigued. As if to answer him, a soft blue light drifts past him through the doorway to touch the wall.

Maybe she is a spirit. Where else could the glow come from? No, that's just stupid, he thinks as he observes the entrancing light dance along the floor in front of him, teasing the shadows.

He aches to turn and watch her, the desire almost overtaking his good sense. His head turns slightly once, twice, just to get a glimpse of her at work, but he stops himself each time.

Just one look, it won't hurt if she doesn't know. Slowly he begins turning his head, seeing her back turned to him out of the corner of his eye, the blue light flickering for a moment beyond her, but just as he resolves to turn his head completely and uncover her mystery, a shout interrupts his temptation.

"Hey, you!"

The Blue Spirit whirls around, taking a step into the hallway and drawing his swords in the same movement, holding them in front of himself in a ready stance. The two guards eye him anxiously, suddenly unsure of themselves, but recover and punch a ball of flame at him.

He easily deflects each and charges forward.

Holding one watered covered hand over a woman's chest and administering the cloth of rare medical herbs so the woman could breathe the lung cleansing additives, the Painted Lady hears the commotion outside and looks up.

"Uhn, what?"

She turns back to look at the now awake woman who stares up at her.

"Shh," the Pained Lady shushes, holding a finger up and finishing her healing as quickly as possible.

All around her patients are beginning to awaken, some crying out.

Rushing to the door, she's stunned for a moment when the Blue Spirit appears in front of her. He motions for her to follow him and she does so without question, carefully stepping over the fallen bodies of the guards as she goes. They round the corner together.

"Hey, who are you?"

They turn back, sprinting side by side down the corridor, the shouts of several guards echoing behind them. She runs, arms pumping, dress and veil billowing behind her, beads of sweat rolling down her face smearing her makeup, her accomplice matching her stride for stride in their frantic attempt at escape.

Breath coming in ragged gasps; he casts a glance at their pursuers. Eyes wide, he suddenly reaches across the small distance and pushes the Painted Lady forcefully to the other side of the hallway, just as the air between them erupts in a magnificent plume of flame.

She hits the wall hard, her back connecting with a loud smack driving what little precious air she had out of her lungs. Stunned and singed, knees weak, she attempts to collect herself. She manages two steps before she is back against the wall, this time held there by the Blue Spirit's body, her hat falling back to be pinned between the wall and her head, dragging the veil across her face but not revealing her features completely.

Her chin digging into his shoulder, his hands wrapped around her arms, his larger frame encompassing her, shielding her, she watches as brilliant reds and gold light up the small passageway, heating the air to an unbearable intensity. If only I could waterbend, she thinks as she closes her eyes against the fire and turns her head slightly into the Blue Spirit's neck to avoid the heat on her face.

He is thinking much the same thing as he holds her there, wishing he could firebend to take down their foes, sweat rolling between his shoulder blades, the lady's heated breath feeling just as hot as the flames at his back. Finally, he feels the temperature lessen and quickly looks back toward the firebenders. Moving before the next attack, he keeps his tight grip on her arms and pulls her, ducking into the nearest side passage. She follows after, readjusting her hat and veil with one hand to maintain her disguise.

Together, they navigate the labyrinthine building at full speed, relishing in the coolness of the shadows, until they find the open window that had started their adventure. He motions for her to slide through then quickly follows. Once outside they slip unnoticed down the alleys and streets until they come to a spot where they feel relatively safe.

Adrenaline spent but oddly elated, the Painted Lady stares at her companion, parts her lips to speak, inhaling gently, but stops herself abruptly. She wants to tell him how thankful she is for his presence, how much she appreciates his help. But she can't. It was risky enough speaking to him before. She can't risk it again. It's better for both of them this way.

Her thoughts resolved, the Painted Lady extends a hand to her accomplice.

The Blue Spirit regards it, as if coming to a decision. He knows he can't speak again, he can't let her find out he's royalty and that he's been put in charge of threatening the people in the town. He wonders who she is, but decides it doesn't matter, she wants to help these people the same way he does.

His mind made up, the Blue Spirit clasps her forearm.

Only the moon stands witness, its streams of light reaching through the rooftops to touch the spirit and lady as they share the warriors handshake.

Once they break apart, the Blue Spirit points to the Painted Lady, then himself, to the ground, then to the moon, and back to the where they stand, hoping she understands.

Here, tomorrow night, meet me here, he thinks.

She looks at him a moment, unsure, then nods.

Yes, I trust you, we'll work together.

* * *

Aang spins to avoid a fierce earthen attack by Toph. Dodging left and right as spikes of rock spawn from the uneven ground, he lets loose a blast of air. The Blind Bandit raises a stone barricade with a flick of her hand, easily blocking the powerful gust of wind. 

"That all you got, Twinkletoes," she taunts, her bare feet sliding across the ground to determine his position and launching a barrage of rock missiles.

Again, Aang evades but abruptly stops when he notices Katara returning to camp.

"Hey, Katara!" he yells, waving excitedly.

She looks up from her weary walk, her eyes rimmed with dark circles as she drags the back of her hand across them. "Oh, hi Aang," she responds, giving a small wave, punctuated by a wide yawn.

"Where've you been all morning?" he asks, walking towards her and seemingly ending the sparring match with Toph, much to the earthbender's frustration.

"Sleeping," Katara admitted, "I just finished my bath. Sorry I wasn't up to make everyone breakfast. Are you guys hungry?"

Aang opens his mouth to speak but Toph replies for him, "Nope, we're training. So if you don't mind—"

"Come join us. We could use a third," Aang interrupts.

"Yeah, the Avatar canÙt handle a blind girl," Toph mutters, exhaling in frustration.

Aang continues to ignore Toph, saying again, "Come on, spar with us! We'll even go easy on you!"

"Speak for yourself," Toph says frowning, hands on her hips, annoyed that their training had been interrupted.

"Sorry Aang," Katara replies, covering another yawn with her hand, "but I think I need to get some more rest."

"Katara," Aang says worriedly, "Can we talk?"

"Alright, alright, I know when I'm not wanted," Toph states before stomping back to camp.

Both Aang an Katara watch Toph leave before facing each other again.

"Is everything alright?" Aang asks.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Toph says I sitll haven't mastered earthbending. I'm not 'listening to the earth' enough I guess, so we've been training a lot lately."

"We've all been pretty busy," Katara sighs weerily.

"You especially," Aang says, looking away from her, "I've been worried about you."

Smiling tiredly, Katara replies, "We've all got our part to do. Yours is to take down the Fire Lord, mine is to help the people of the Fire Nation as the Painted lady, Toph's is to keep you training, and Sokka...Sokka's job is to organize our lives into his master schedule."

"He does have it all planned out," Aang says with a grin, "This morning he told me I'd only have an eight minute window to take down the Fire Lord and that I might be able to fit in a one minute meditation beforehand." Both Aang and Katara chuckle, but Aang's grin fades as he asks worriedly, "Do you think I'm ready? Do think I can do it?"

Taking his shoulders, Katara states softly, "I know you can do it," before wrapping her arms around him in an encouraging hug.

"Thanks," Aang says gratefully, returning her embrace. As they walk toward camp together, he twidles his fingers nervously before speaking up slowly, "Katara, we've been through a lot together and--"

"Aang, I can't," Katara shakes her head exhaustedly, causing Aang to jump with shock before she finishes, "I wish I could spar with you guys, but I need get some rest."

Realizing she misunderstood, he begins again, "No, thats not what I..." but trails off as he watches her crawl drowsily into her sleeping bag. They're so close, they've been through so much, he wants to just tell her, whether she feels the same or not.

"Are we done being social now? Can we get back to training?" Toph asks from across camp, gesturing wildly with her arms as she interupts Aang's thoughts.

"Yeah," Aang replies distantly, "Okay."

She feels Aang walk back over to their training grounds, and follows, sensing his heartbeat slowing from its rapid pace and returning to normal. She wonders what happened between him and Katara while she was away and what had caused his heart to speed up in the first place. It wasn't from sparring, of that she was certain.

Toph frowns as she feels the familiar vibrations of Katara drifting off to sleep. The waterbender had been acting strangely for days. She was going out on her Painted Lady escapades not once every few nights, but every night. Something was up, but as intriguing as it was, Toph knew that the Sugar Queen was more than capable of figuring things out on her own.

Besides, right now, she had an earthbending student to train.

"Aang! Think fast!"

* * *

"Well, what do you think, Prince Zuko?" 

Zuko sits up straight at the mentioning of his name, trying not to look startled as he meets the stares of Shanxi's officials. To say that he was tired would be an understatement and listening to the argumentative colloquy around him only served to lull him into a state of vague awareness.

Blinking several times to make sure he's awake and organizing his thoughts, he suggests, "Can't we just give them what they want? Install a better ventilation system in these mines?"

The group of administrators stared at him a moment, some looking on with shocked disbelief.

Suddenly, Azula lets out a shrill laugh. She grasps Zuko's shoulder, her fingernails digging into his flesh, and gives him a sisterly shake.

"Oh, my brother. Always making jokes," she says, releasing him from her talon-like grip.

The others present exchange glances before breaking out into low chuckles.

"I think what Zuko meant to say was that we should continue with the tactics we have committed to," Azula continues. "They won't be able to hold out much longer. Right, brother?" she asks, nudging the Fire Prince.

"Yes, of course. Continue with the tactics," he confirms, stifling a yawn, his thoughts still fuzzy from lack of sleep with traces of _her_ veiled figure lingering in the foggy corners of his mind.

There is a low murmur of agreement from the officials before the meeting adjourns. They file out, subtly looking at the exhausted Zuko and muttering amongst themselves.

He doesn't notice and once they have all left, he stands, brushing past his sister, intent of finding his bed and falling into it.

Stepping out of the meeting room, head down, watching the stone floor pass beneath his feet, he misses the slim figure waiting for him, clad in dark red fabric, twirling a dagger between her pale nimble fingers. He passes by her, unaware of her presence, concentrating solely on putting one foot in front of the other and making it to his room before he collapses.

Mai frowns at the dismissal. Tucking the weapon into her sleeve, she slides up beside the oblivious prince and wraps her arm around his.

He looks up, clearly surprised.

She takes note of the dazed expression and the dark shading under his good eye. He looks utterly drained and she wonders absently what could be wrong.

"How'd it go," she says, placing her hand in his and interlocking their fingers, "Can we leave this disgusting place?"

"Not yet," he answers, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes as they walk together.

She lets out a long sigh in response, but changes the subject, "I'm famished, lets go have lunch in the gardens."

"Mai, I can't," Zuko states, smiling sorrowfully at her, "I haven't been sleeping well. Maybe later."

"Fine, go take a nap then," Mai sighs again in frustration, letting go of his hand but continuing to walk beside him.

As they walk down the corridor together, Ty Lee comes from the other direction, walking on her hands but twisting to her feet to meet her friends.

"Hey, Mai. Hey, Zuko..." she begins with a smile, but trails off when she sees his drooping head and weary expression. "What have you two been up to," she asks innocently, then adds with a smirk, "Zuko looks all worn out."

"It wasn't anything _I _did," Mai says sourly, prompting Ty Lee to slip away with a giggle.

Anything Mai did? No, of course not, Zuko thinks as the Painted Lady appears in his thoughts again. Unable to contemplate anything else, he continues walking to his room. He needs to get some rest.


	4. Together

Chapter: 4 Together

Sitting on a rooftop, the Blue Spirit observes the dark, abandoned alley with wide alert eyes, waiting for his accomplice. He shifts his weight, trying to get comfortable on the ceramic roof tiles, keeping a watchful eye for any sign of the white veil and dark gown. Looking to the sky, he knows he's early for their nightly rendezvous, but he couldn't stand another minute of being Prince Zuko.

It was all so confusing. Serving Ozai, working with Azula, being with Mai; not so long ago any of that would have been wishful thinking, when he had no sympathy or relief from his banishment. Now he must impose the same unyielding punishment Ozai had given him on the people of Shanxi, giving no ground until honor is restored and coal production begins again. It doesn't feel right, and every time he attempts to examine his feelings, he feels worse than before.

But he can forget it all when he's the Blue Spirit. And what's more, he longs for the comfortable and familiar company of his new friend. This will be the third night they've worked together, and despite not knowing each other's identity and never speaking, he already feels a strong sense of kinship to her.

She's just like him, seeking some kind of solace in her mysterious identity, and he doesn't mind sharing his nocturnal escapades with her. Her silent approval of his actions feels right, lacking the hidden agendas and open deceit that he had sensed so often in the royal court.

Lost in thought, the Blue Spirit returns to the present when he notices the air grow colder and a bolt of excitement courses through him when the familiar visage of the lady emerges from the shadows.

Slipping from the roof, the Blue Spirit drops into the alley. The Painted Lady, used to his stealthy entrances after their first few encounters, doesn't startle.

They face each other in silence, then the Blue Spirit gestures for them to leave together and turns to do so. Before he takes a step, her hand catches his and he turns back, looking into her veil but seeing only the vague features of her face behind.

Giving his hand a gentle tug, she leads him in the opposite direction. Unsure of their route but trusting her wholeheartedly, the Blue Spirit follows the Painted Lady closely through the alley and into the streets. Avoiding the patrolling guards, the two make their way through the city, one leading the other, to the lady's predetermined destination.

As they go, the realization that they are heading in the direction of the military barracks pangs through the Blue Spirit. She can't be serious, its way too risky. But she is serious, he decides, when the Painted Lady spins around and holds a finger up for extra caution.

She awaits her accomplice's approval, watching anxiously, silently hoping he won't shake his head and pull her away, or worse, abandon her. It would be worth it, most of the village's food is stocked away in the barracks, but it would also be extremely dangerous. When he nods his head after a moment of hesitation, she smiles proudly behind her veil. She knows they can do it, together

Cautiously they approach the building, eyes glued to the guards as they steal around a corner and out of sight.

The Blue Spirit checks several windows, trying to find a way in but finds them all locked. Pulling a sword from the scabbard on his back, he grips the hilt and wedges the blade between the frame and the sill in an attempt to pry their way into the barracks. With a soft grunt, he pushes down on his weapon and the window creaks loudly under the pressure. The Painted Lady grabs his arm and shakes her head, afraid the noise would be loud enough to alert the guards.

He sheathes the sword and both spirits look around for another way in. Spying a drainpipe, the lady taps her companion on the shoulder and points to the side of the building, and the climbing rusted metal duct leading to the roof.

Smirking beneath his mask, he bows shortly at the waist and gestures with his hand for the lady to go first. She smiles and curtsies, dipping her head, holding her veiled hat in place.

The Painted Lady confronts the pipe, gripping it firmly in both hands, face set in grim determination, and attempts to shimmy up. The slick metal slides through her hands like ice and, with a grunt she manages to climb a few inches.

The Blue Spirit watches her endeavor for a moment, amused, then shakes his head and taps her on the shoulder. She turns to look at him, not realizing the minuscule distance she had covered in her efforts and gracefully slides back to the ground.

Embarrassed, she wipes her hands on her gown and watches as he leaps at the pipe, grabbing hold, and moving hand over hand, twists himself onto the rooftop in no time.

The Blue Spirit turns and, holding onto a piece of the drain duct, lowers his other hand to help the lady up. The Painted Lady looks up at him, arms crossed with an unseen smirk, then seems to sigh as she unfolds her arms, her veil fluttering with her exhalation, and she approaches the pipe once more.

Struggling her way up the metal, she holds fast midway up and reaches for his gloved hand. Arm extended as far as possible, her bare fingertips barely brush the fabric of his glove from where it lies just out of her reach. With extra effort she lunges upwards, grasping his hand.

Her fingers wrapped around his, the glove begins to slide off under her unsteady grip and she slips slightly, pulling the fabric with her. They both watch as it flutters to the ground.

She turns back to his now bare hand and her muscles tense as she makes another jump for it. As she takes hold, his hand tightens around hers, and trusting her weight to his strength, she lets go of the pipe and grasps his arm with her other hand. His muscles burn as he hoists her up and the drain pipe creaks under the stress of his grip, but she joins him on the rooftop without incident.

He watches as she readjusts her costume, as she so often does to keep her identity secret, and he wonders not for the first time who she could be. The Painted Lady notices his gaze and seems to turn away awkwardly. When his hand touches her shoulder, she tenses up, but relaxes when he holds up a finger for silence and motions for them to proceed on along the rooftop.

The severe disrepair of the roof is startling, and as they painstakingly creep across the slanted ceramic and wood, they try hard to avoid the obviously sagging beams and weak spots. They spy what looks to be a hatch in the distance and begin to head toward it, timber squeaking beneath their feet.

Without preamble the groans and protests of the wood suddenly increase exponentially. The lumber splinters under their weight, the ceramic cracking, and the roof caves in under the Blue Spirit's feet. The Painted Lady watches as he falls through with a loud crash.

He lands in a pile of rubble in a tiny room and the world seems to go black as the back of his head smacks the ground . Slowly he reopens his eyes to the dim twilight that peeks through the newly made hole in the roof above. He vaguely becomes aware of the hands running along his rib cage, and he turns his head with aching slowness to see the Painted Lady kneeling next to him.

The Painted Lady checks her friend's body for injury worriedly, conflicted over whether or not she should draw a stream of water to make a more thorough search. She'd do it, she trusts him, yet her promise to Sokka holds her back. His hand suddenly clasps her roving fingers and she looks to his masked face, her blush hidden by her veil.

The sound of voices outsides their tiny room interrupts them, and they both hold still in the darkness.

"I know I heard something."

"I heard it to, but look around, this place is a dump, anything could have fallen over and made the noise."

"I suppose you're right."

The Painted Lady carefully crawls to the door, sliding it open slightly and looks through, watching the pair of guards exit the larger room. Once she is sure they are gone, she helps the somewhat shaken Blue Spirit to his feet and together they leave the closet and carefully make their way through the building.

Cracking a door open to check for guards, the Painted Lady slides it open the rest of the way to reveal the food storage room. She steps inside, eyes wide at the amount of edibles piled high in crates and on shelves. The Blue Spirit walks close behind, his balance still off from his fall, and he missteps and bumps into an overflowing box of melons.

The Painted Lady turns to support her companion and watches as one of the green round fruits falls from the crate and rolls away. She holds him with an arm around his back, looking at him with concern and wishing she could see beyond the mask and make sure that he is alright. He gives her a slight nod indicating that his dizziness has subsided and she reluctantly releases her hold, resuming her scan of food stock pile. The Blue Spirit looks around as well, trying to rub away the soreness in the back of his head as he spies a pile of burlaps sacks for them to use.

"So I says to her, I says—"

"Hey," a guard speaks out, holding up a hand to silence his partner.

They both look down at the lone melon that lies in the hallway and then to the open door to the food storage room. Another pair of guards appear around the far corner of the same hallway, and catching their attention, the first pair signals for them to take the intruders by surprise.

Weapons drawn, the four guards burst into the room.

Caught off guard, the Blue Spirit is unable to turn quickly enough and is tackled from behind. Arms pinned behind his back, mask being ground into the floor, a new wave of dizziness washes over him and though he struggles, he is unable to reach his swords and adequately fight his attackers.

The Painted Lady whirls around in time to see her accomplice downed with a guard latched to his back. Another guard stands nearby to help pin the Blue Spirit while the two others attempt to corner her. She slowly backs away, hands held out in front of her, shaking, in an attempt to scare off the assailants, unsure what else to do. She takes another step and her back connects solidly with a wooden crate and she knows she can go no further.

Risking a quick glance over her shoulder, she spies the large green fruits. Thinking quickly, she grabs one and throws it at a guard.

Thinking quickly, she grabs one of the melons and throws it at a guard.

The guard deflects it neatly, smirking at the Painted Lady's attempts.

Knowing this would be a time in which Sokka would condone bending, she reaches out for the water in her water skin but stops when she senses the natural juices in the melons behind her. With a smirk of her own, she gets an idea.

A knee sharply digging into the small of his back, the Blue Spirit closes his eyes as bile rises in his throat at the thought of the Painted Lady in Azula's clutches and he rolls and thrashes under the weight of the guard. His head spinning, blood rushing in his ears, he pushes past the hopelessness of the situation and struggles to get his hands free, twisting them in the sweat slicked grip of the guard.

The Painted Lady holds up another melon threateningly at the guards, but both ignore her defensive stance and continue closing in on her. Letting her makeshift weapon fly, she draws her hand back quickly, expanding the water within the melon as it approaches the guard causing it to explode all over the man's face.

The other guard looks at his companion with confusion and can only watch as another melon connects with the blinded man's head, knocking him to the floor. The guard holds up his hands to defend himself, but he proves no match for the Painted Lady as she tosses another melon in his direction, letting it explode before belting him with another.

Feeling the guard's grip loosen amidst his resistance, the Blue Spirit yanks his hands free. Rolling to his back to confront his attacker and finally lend assistance to the Painted Lady, he looks up with shock when a ripe melon smashes into the guard's head, sending him sliding limply to the floor.

He looks up at the Painted Lady standing over him, holding out her hand to help him to his feet. He is still dazed but he manages to take her hand, wondering how she managed to defeat their attackers.

She smiles under her veil as the Blue Spirit looks around the room at the smashed mellons and unconcious guards. She catches his attention and gestures to the food sacks. They still had a mission to complete.

* * *

"I don't know how much longer we can hold out like this."

Several men and women, all tired and some sickly, nod their heads in agreement to the speaker in the small meeting held in the communal living room.

"It was bad enough before, when it was only the black lung," another speaks up, "but now people are getting sick from all the garbage plaguing the area. If we go back to work, maybe they'll give us the necessities we need just to get by."

"We're not going back to that," a woman states, "We made a decision and we have to stick by it."

"Think of the children," another woman says, "They're suffering, they can barely eat, how can we keep this up if—"

A knock on the door interrupts the secret meeting.

Eyes widen in fear, trained on the door, and everyone freezes in place. They've been caught.

Several short knocks sound again.

One man ventures forward quietly and slides the door open slightly, asking in a trembling voice, "Who's there?" He's met with no response, and sliding the door open more, his facial features morph from worried to shocked as he gasps, "It's you!"

He opens the door the rest of the way to reveal the Painted Lady standing outside. The people inside inhale sharply at the sight of her, knowing full well who she is and what she offers them. She enters carrying a sack of food with her.

"Thank you! Thank you Painted La—" the man begins before stopping short when the Blue Spirit enters the room behind her, setting down two sacks of food next to the lady.

He staggers backwards away from masked man known throughout the Fire Nation as a deadly criminal and dishonorable thief.

The Blue Spirit takes a hesitant step further into the room, holding his hands out disarmingly, but the people only tense up, backing away from him.

"Get back!" one of them threatens.

The Painted Lady steps forward to convince them otherwise, to defend him, but stops short, knowing how foolish it would be to speak out.

She frowns in frustration, unsure what to do, not knowing how to convince them that he's not their to harm them. A thought strikes her and she reaches out and takes his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers for everyone to see, hoping that they'll understand.

He's good, she wants to tell them, he's here to help you. He's with me.

The Blue Spirit startles inwardly at her touch, her hand seemingly giving life to the only portion of his body not hidden by his costume. The whole of his awareness travels to where she touches his bare skin and the pain in the back of his head seems to fade. He doesn't notice the tentative smiles appearing on the people's faces.

"Thank you, Painted Lady," a woman manages, then turns to the masked man, "And thank you, Blue Spirit."

* * *

Zuko drags his feet as he trudges to the dining area, head down, hair slipping from his top knot, falling into his heavy-lidded eyes. Fumbling, he manages to take a seat next to Mai at the table where she, Azula and Ty Lee already sit eating breakfast. All three girls look up at his entrance and watch as he clumsily grabs his bowl, almost dropping the pottery, then tiredly plucks pieces of food, barely paying attention and places them in.

"I thought you didn't like Papaya," Azula states, watching as her brother picks up the fruit in his chopsticks.

"Huh?"

She sets her chopsticks down and dabs at her mouth with a napkin. "Is everything alright, Zuko?" she asks.

"Fine," Zuko replies in monotone as he extricates the Papaya from his plate.

"You look exhausted," she comments.

"And distracted," Mai adds, looking for his eye contact but not finding it.

He visibly wilts not meeting any of their concerned gazes. "I'm not sleeping well," he admits weakly, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head.

"Girls," Azula snaps looking at her two friends, "I need to speak to my brother alone please."

Ty Lee looks up from her bowl. "But I'm not finished."

Azula narrows her eyes and Ty Lee scrambles to her feet, bowl in hand and heads for the door. Mai stands slowly; looking from Zuko, wondering what was troubling her boyfriend, to Azula, trying to interpret her friend's emotionless face, before turning and following the acrobat out.

Once they leave, Zuko's unease and suspicion grows. Does Azula know? _Could_ she know?

He looks up and is startled to see not the usual Azula scowl, but instead an expression of open caring. His apprehension spikes.

"This all must be very stressful for you," she begins, reaching over and patting his pale hand, "I know it's hard to adjust, being thrust back into this lifestyle after three long years of wandering the world."

Due to his exhausted state, he is unable to hide the arched eyebrow, the gape of his mouth and the surprise the flits across this features.

"Oh, Zuzu, you still don't trust me?" Azula responds to his expression, "After all I've done for you?"

He pulls his hand away in the guise of grasping his cup and taking a long drink, uncomfortable with her reassuring touch.

"And what exactly have you done for me, Azula?" he asks summoning a hard tone to his voice after setting down his tea. "You lied to father. You told him I killed the Avatar, just to cover your own back in case he still lives."

Azula opens her mouth to reply but Zuko quickly cuts her off, "I'm not saying he's alive, but I know you doubted his death and used me to protect yourself."

Stunned for a moment, Azula recovers and starts over, "Zuko, I'm not going to lie to you. I was worried father wouldn't let you return otherwise. Your mission was to find the Avatar, after all, and you know how father can be. If the job isn't done his way, he won't have it." She places a hand on her brother's shoulder before continuing, "And you know how I can be, sometimes I just can't help but mess with you, the same way I would tease Mai or Ty Lee."

Zuko stares hard into his bowl of food trying to wrap his mind around Azula's words.

"Brother," she says softly, "I'm on your side, I want to help you."

Zuko only continues to stare, giving no response.

"Let me handle the meeting this morning in your stead.," she says suddenly, prompting Zuko to look up from his contemplations, "Spend the day with Mai, think about what I told you."

He is hesitant but quickly realizes that Azula is giving him a way out. Maybe she really was looking out for him. He gives her a curt nod and she smiles, releasing her grip on his shoulder.

Pushing his food away, he stands to leave, his tired mind reeling. Exiting the room, he finds Mai waiting for him, her arms crossed, her foot tapping in annoyance. At her frown, he lets out a soft sigh, realizing that he had neglected more than just his duties as the Prince, but also those of a boyfriend.

He reaches out for her, and waits. She eyes his hand with an unreadable expression until she drops her arms and holds her own hand out for him. Taking it, he intertwines his fingers with hers, hoping to feel the same shock of enjoyment that he had the night previous when a different woman held his hand. Unnerved that he didn't, he pushes the thought to the back of his mind.

"I'm sorry," he finally says meeting Mai's gaze. "I haven't been myself lately."

"I've noticed," she retorts attempting to pull her hand away, but he holds fast.

"It's just…everything is so different…I'm having trouble being a Prince again…I need some time to adjust," he says, unknowingly repeating the lines Azula had spoken to him earlier.

Her expression softens and he lifts his other hand, placing his palm on her cheek, his thumb running over the smooth pale skin.

Almost as luminescent as the veil…

He closes his eyes against the rebellious thought.

"Go get some rest," Mai orders with a smile, mistaking the action as a sign of fatigue.

He nods. "I will." He pulls his eyes open and gives her a small smile. "So later we can have that picnic."

* * *

Azula paces down the hallway toward the meeting room, expression set in firm determination. The meeting would be no problem, but Zuko's continued issues were throwing her for a loop, and she seriously wondered, not for the first time, if he was worth her trouble.

"Princess Azula," the mayor greets, bowing low as she enters the meeting room.

Azula waves him off and takes a seat at the head of the group, saying, "Prince Zuko is unable to attend the meeting today, I'll be taking over for him."

"Yes, very good," the mayor states nervously, "would you like a cup of tea?"

"Let's just get to the point," Azula says, rolling her eyes at the offering of tea, an annoying reminder of her foolish uncle, "As per Prince Zuko's orders, all ration distribution locations are to be shut down. No more food is to be given out until the miners resume work."

"And where is the prince?" a woman across the table asks.

"My brother's whereabouts are unimportant," Azula states, staring down the speaker, "but his orders are and I expect them to be carried out."

"Y-yes princess," the formerly bold woman stutters.

"And what of the Painted Lady?" a man speaks out, "Rumors have been circulating that she's been robbing the food storage buildings and feeding the people in the town."

"Her again?" Azula muses in annoyance, "hasn't she been caught yet?"

"Well..." the man nervously trails off.

Azula stands and turns away from those at the table, rapping her fingernails against the arm of her chair, brow furrowed. "She's stolen medicine and food, all to help the people. Logically, her next move is going to be something more important, more ambitious," Azula says more to herself than the group at large. She spins on her heel and looks at the useless officials gathered around her.

"She'll strike the mines next." It's not a question.

"How can you be sure?"

"It's obviously the next step. She'll try to destroy them, but we'll be ready." She clenches her fist, her golden eyes alighting with a predatory gleam.

The mayor shudders. "Of course, princess," he states with a bow, "It will be done."

* * *

"You want to tell me what's been going on?"

Katara turns from the bubbling pot she's been leaning over in surprise, not hearing the blind girl's approach.

"What do you mean?" she asks, a look of general confusion crossing her face as her brow furrows.

"Don't pretend like you don't know," Toph states, bending an earthen chair for herself and plopping down in it, "You've been acting strange lately and you've been going out every night for the past week as the Painted Lady."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Katara defends, turning back to her cooking.

"Spill it Sugar Queen, you've been avoiding us."

Sighing in defeat, hanging her head, Katara turns and faces the blind girl again, "I guess it does seem like I've been avoiding everybody."

The earthbender raises a hand in response and a second chair of earth appears beside her.

Taking a seat, Katara continues, "Toph, can I share something with you, just between us girls?"

"That's what I'm here for."

Taking a deep breath, Katara confesses, "Well...there's this guy..."

Toph smirks. It all makes sense now and she voices her thoughts knowingly, "I think I know who you mean."

"You do?" Katara asks, startled, looking at her friend in surprise.

"Of course," Toph replies confidently, grinning at the waterbender, "And, to tell you the truth, I've been picking up the subtle vibe that he likes you too."

"What, how?" Katara asks, growing more shocked.

"It's pretty obvious," Toph states, looking very pleased with her conclusion, "but I suppose I can see it better than anyone else because of my earthbending."

"Have you been following me out at night?"

"What? No," Toph states as confusion washes over her face, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Then how do you know about him?"

"How wouldn't I know about him?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"Aang!"

"What?!"

"Well, I," Toph stutters, suddenly realizing her mistake and quickly trying to defend herself, "It just made so much sense. You two were so close, and the way you danced together, and, well, I thought maybe something was going on and you were avoiding him, and—"

"Its not like that at all," Katara interrupts, "Aang and I are just friends." Staring at the ground, she looks uncertain a moment, lost in thought, slowly adding, "Best friends."

"Why have you been going out then? Who is it?" Toph asks curiously.

"I met him while I was out as the Painted Lady," Katara explains, snapping out of her thoughts on Aang, "He was helping people, just like me. We've been working together every night since."

"Who is he?"

"He's…he's…he's amazing, Toph," Katara gasps.

The blind girl arches an eyebrow at the tone of adoration in Katara's voice. The waterbender doesn't notice as she continues describing him.

"He's very brave," she states remembering how he had faced down the guards, swords drawn, blades glinting in the firelight. "And he's very strong," a slight blush gathers in her cheeks as she recalls his arms wrapped around her frame, muscles taut, as he selflessly protected her during their first night out. "He's just like us. An enemy of the Fire Nation, dedicated to helping those in need."

"He sounds almost too good to be true. Who is he?"

"It's funny, I've only heard him speak on the night we met, and he barely said anything, but..." she pauses to sigh, oblivious to the blind earthbender's question, "theres a connection between us, he doesn't have to say anything and I already know what he's thinking. We both want and need the same things."

"Who. Is. He." Toph growls, punctuating each word determinedly, tired of Katara's dreamy descriptions.

"He's the Blue Spirit."


	5. Almost

Author's Note: Yes, we're finally back. The Ghost you love the most. The Tomato who's not a potato and most certainly not served with Alfredo. Took us awhile, but here it is. Hope you enjoy, we look forward to hearing from you :)

* * *

Ch: 5 Almost

Dark clouds obscure the moonlight as the Painted Lady peers out of a doorway before turning and signaling behind her. As she moves across the dirt road where a small cart awaits in front of the storage building, the Blue Spirit follows after her, rolling a barrel as he goes.

Reaching the cart, the Painted Lady makes sure the barrel already resting at the cart's side is sealed. Filled to the brim with blasting jelly, she knows the two barrels will work without fail for their mission.

Arriving at their meeting place with a note informing her friend that they should end Shanxi's troubles by destroying the coal mines, she had been shocked to receive a scrap of paper from the Blue Spirit suggesting the same thing. Admittedly, she would have liked to surprise him, to show him just how far she was willing to go to help people, but knowing that he had come to the same decision as her was a thrill in itself. He really was just like her.

She turns and smiles behind her veil, watching as he tips the second barrel of blasting jelly upright.

The Blue Spirit wraps both arms around the barrel and hoists it heavily into the cart. His bare palms rub irritatingly on the wood and he wonders at the wisdom in going gloveless. But it would be worth it, he knows, if she just takes his hand again, like she had the other night.

With both barrels loaded, spirit and lady grip the opposing handles and begin pulling that cart down the dirt road. Looking up from the road to the sky, eyes tracing the stars as they emerge behind the dark clouds, the Painted Lady feels a slight tickle on top of her bare hands which she immediately recognizes as her element beginning to rain down lightly. She turns to see if her companion has noticed it too and feels a fluttering sensation in her chest when she sees him turn away quickly at her glance. He's been watching her.

By now she is fully aware of her feelings for him; he was more than her accomplice, more than a friend. Her admiration of him had been surpassed by an interest in him, an interest that wasn't concerned with his identity but instead to continue being with him, to get closer to him. She had only felt something similar to this once before, but this felt so much stronger, maybe because of his mysterious charm, or maybe because of the risky environments that they continue to throw themselves into.

She had hoped she wasn't being too forward the other night, when she took his hand to show the townspeople that they could trust him. He didn't recoil and pull away, but did he experience the same feeling of excitement, the sweet rush that originated from their interlocked fingers, when she took his hand? Did he know how she felt about him? He was looking at her, just now, but perhaps it was only that he still wants to know her identity. This doubt floods her and she looks again at the Blue Spirit, as if seeing his mask might give her the answers she seeks.

He turns sidewards to catch her looking at him. Sucking in a quick breath, she turns away quickly, hoping he didn't think she was gawking at him.

Was she watching him too? The Blue Spirit can't be sure, but the acute pressure in his chest is evidence enough that he wants it to be true. He's awakened to his feelings for her, knowing each night she offers the peace of mind he so desperately craves. He can act like himself around her without feeling guilty, knowing the purpose behind his actions are of his choosing at not motivated by the expectations of his station. At first she was just a means to help the people, then she became an accomplice and friend, but now... He's never felt anything like this. Even with Mai, the feelings are all different and he doesn't understand why.

When she took his hand the other night, he was suddenly aware that he wanted this to be who he really was. The face of Prince Zuko could be the mask, the Blue Spirit was the face he wanted so that he could be with the Painted Lady. But does she feel the same things he feels for her? He can't be sure, unable to see any expression behind her veil and only having her gestures to guess by. He wants her taking his hand to have been meaningful, symbolic, but a nagging notion remains that it was only a means to show their solidarity, that he was not the enemy.

As both Spirit and Lady try miserably to resolve their feelings and keep their relationship professional, they make their way up the hill to the mines with the cart in tow as the rain grows heavier over their heads.

After making it up the hill and as they near the entrance to the mines, the Blue Spirit, despite much deliberation, can't help but slide his gaze back over to her form as she walks along side of him. The rain is quickening, slicking the handles of the cart and the ground beneath his feet. Not paying attention, his foot slips in the rapidly forming mud, and suddenly, he finds himself off balance, the weight of the blasting jelly shifting in the back of the wagon.

Attempting to take another step and stay in cadence with the Lady, his foot slides further in the mud and he falls to his knees. Unable to keep his precarious hold, the wood slips through his bare hands.

The cart pitches forward, the pole he was previously holding rams into the ground, and sticks fast into the mud.

The Painted Lady is suddenly supporting the weight of the entire cargo as it suddenly shifts forward. She tries to keep the unwieldy load stable but is unsuccessful feeling a painful jolt when the other side digs into the road. Unable to stop her momentum, she too finds herself falling forward, slipping, heading for painful contact with the ground.

Scrambling on hands and knees, the Blue Spirit rushes to catch her but only succeeds in breaking her fall as she lands on his side causing him to fall on his back in the mud.

The Painted Lady lies on her accomplice's chest in a daze for only a moment before a fierce blush catches her features and she scrambles to get off of him.

The Blue Spirit sits up weakly and reaches out for her to balance himself, catching her wrist with his fingers as he gets to his knees. She struggles to her feet, only to slip once more and land on her knees. She raises her head to look up at him and through her veil she sees him looking back at her from behind his mask, his hand still holding her wrist delicately. Frozen by her alluring position, the Blue Spirit is unable to move, to get to his feet, to help her up. He can only stare with longing as she sits on her knees gazing back at him.

An unknown force stirs within him and slowly he lowers his face to hers, and like a moth to a flame, she draws toward him. Their faces only inches apart, the Painted Lady reaches up with her free hand. She gently clasps the edge of his mask, her fingertips slidding beneath the ceramic and smearing remanents of mud on his skin. His free hand tenderly reaches up, his fingertips tracing the gauze of her veil. It flutters in time with his racing heart as he begins to brush it aside.

And then they stop and time seems to suspend itself around them.

He can't do this. To see her face, to kiss her lips. He can't. The cornerstone of their relationship is the secrecy they both hold and he doesn't dare break that foundation. Especially so because of his true identity. If she found out who he was, Prince Zuko, the cause of the people's trouble...

She can't do this. To see his face, to kiss his lips. She can't. As much as she craves it, she fears the consequences it will have on their friendship. If he found out she was a waterbender, the Avatar's companion no less...

Slowly both Spirit and Lady withdraw their hands from the barriers that separate them and they retreat from each other.

He looks at her kneeling form apologetically, unsure how to proceed. She is just as sorry, and wanting him to understand, she wraps his hand thats been holding her wrist with both of hers, giving him the gentle squeeze she hopes conveys her feelings. Wanting to speak, to explain, he tries to find his voice and barely comprehends the rope netting that suddenly consumes her body and drags her away through the mud. In horror, he tries to get to his feet only find himself in a similar predicament.

The net encircles him, pinning his arms to his side, tangling around his legs, and he falls hard into the mud. Twisting, he sees his companion a distance away, ragged rope cutting into the soft flesh of her skin as she struggles against the guards, writhing in the mud, attempting to get her hands free. She looks up; the veil torn away from her face revealing her panicked features and shockingly wide blue eyes. For a moment he's lost in that gaze until a sharp jerk on the net binding his limbs brings him back to the present. With renewed vigor and fear creeping into his throat, he thrashes against his captors. The rope loosens and he manages to wrap a hand around the slick handle of his dao blade.

Slicing his way free, he jumps to his feet. Pushing through the bodies of soldiers, he manages to drop to his knees by her side and with a few flicks of his wrists, frees her. Grasping her hand, his skin warm against hers, they stand to face they're ambushers.

Even as they stand, more soldiers are appearing behind those that begin to surround them. The Blue Spirit grips the handles of his blades tightly. There so many of them, and the fear that he might not be able to protect the Painted Lady weighs heavily on his conscious as his eyes take in the circling soldiers.

With a cry of attack, a guard wielding a pike charges forward ambitiously to take on the Blue Spirit, but with the criss cross of his blades the Blue Spirit disarms the man and sends him reeling backwards to collapse in a daze. This seems to be the signal for the other soldiers as they all charge forward.

The Blue Spirit keeps the Painted Lady just behind him to keep her out of harms way, constantly circling to keep their perimeter clear. When a guard's hand reaches his arm and pulls him into the mob of soldiers, he swings his blades viciously to escape and return to the Lady's side. But as he knocks a guard out of his line of site, he's astounded to see her hands in the air, a pool of rain water collecting at her finger tips before she commands the tentacle of water to knock her attackers aside. The thought that she's a waterbender barely registers in his mind as he returns to the fight, his thoughts residing solely on providing a way for the Painted Lady and himself to escape.

Watching as more soldiers and firebenders appear from the surrounding woods, the Painted Lady knows that resorting to her waterbending is the only way they would survive much less escape. Taking a deep breath, she spreads her arms, and freezes the watery ground beneath their feet. Smirking under her veil at the slipping and falling attackers, she bends more water around her, pushing a wall of her element toward them, sweeping them away with a torrent.

Dodging flames, The Blue Spirit evades the soldiers with his superior agility. His swords are a silver blur as he slashes his way through the red wall of armor and cloth as he tries to gradually make his way back to his companion's side. Almost there, he finds himself cut off, corralled, pushed in another direction. Diving away from a particularly accurate knife attack, he feels the blade slice into his skin as his back connects hard with the wood of the cart holding the blasting jelly. Another jab from a spear skewers the flesh of his arm, leaving a wicked bleeding cut and snares the fabric of his clothes, restraining his arm against the wood. Unable to move, he is forced to duck as scorching missiles of fire fly over his head, igniting the timber behind him.

Blocking flames with shields of water, steam filling the air as the two elements meet in battle, the Painted Lady forces aside more guards. Her eyes widen as she sees her friend stuck between the flaming cart and advancing enemies, the flames licking the barrels holding the volatile, flammable substance. Knowing she cannot stop the inevitable explosion, she gathers water quickly and pushes a violent stream at the Blue Spirit.

It slams into him, pushing him hard, bruising his ribs, and he tumbles several feet away, landing with a splash in the mud. He looks up from his prone position just in time to see the cart explode.

The sky fills with orange, red and yellow in a brilliant flash. For a moment, it is dawn in the dead of night, and the brutal colors burn into the retinas of those nearest. Broken timber blends in with the rain as it falls to earth, acting as projectiles.

Several soldiers go down from the barrage and the Blue Spirit sees the Painted Lady across the fray, illuminated by the harsh flames that surround them, ash swirling around her gown. She sees him too, lying in the mud, bruised, cut, burnt, but alive. She begins to run to his side when a blast of fire shoots past her shoulder, forcing her to dip out of the way and regain her balance.

Face contorted with fury, the Painted Lady whirls around and swipes a stream of water into the encroaching soldier behind her. Eyes wide and alert, her makeup smearing as sweat and rain water runs down her face, she changes her stance and whips the water into another group of firebenders, looping the whiplash around a man's feet behind her to send him falling hard on his back.

Glancing toward the Blue Spirit again, she watches as he battles off wave after wave of soldiers, his blades dancing through the rain as they deflect flames and edged metal alike. Seeing no end in sight, she looks to the sky above and raises her hand. Millions of rain drops collect around her and, spreading her arms and letting out a long breath, the liquid transmutes into a dense fog that spreads quickly and consumes everyone around her.

Fighting desperately, the Blue Spirit's vision suddenly blurs as the gray fog encases his enemies. He holds his swords out on both sides, ready to strike the first opponent to slip into view. A hand catches his arm and instinctively he turns to bat the foe away, but stops midway, recognizing the Painted Lady's gentle touch even in the heat of battle.

His expression of alarm, hidden by the mask of the Blue Spirit, matches the desperation in her eyes, visible without the presence of her veil. Her hand grabs hold of his arm, her grip tight, and he understands her intentions. They dart away through the fog, the Painted Lady leading, feeling a safe route through the mist with her waterbending while the Blue Spirit follows her like a shadow.

Suddenly the path ahead of them glows with an orange intensity that explodes on the Painted Lady's shoulder, showering them both with licks of flame. She lets out a cry of pain and falls to the ground, holding her shoulder tightly. The Blue Spirit stands over her, searching for the source of the stray fireball.

Not finding it, he stoops down and helps the Lady to her feet, murmuring, "Go, get out of here! I'll hold them off!"

She looks at him in shock, as if she had forgotten he could speak at all, and worriedly she grabs hold of him. He holds her for the briefest moment, aware of the soldiers voices around him just out of site, then lets her go.

Without looking back, she dashes off, holding her injured shoulder painfully and trying not to stumble as the daze of battle sinks in. Not watching her go, the Blue Spirit holds out his blades, igniting them both with streams of golden fire and sends the flames searing through the fog.

* * *

Mai sits on the edge of the bed in Zuko's dimly lit room, her arms and legs crossed, a frown on her face. She wanted to go for a moonlit walk and she wanted Zuko at her side, but upon knocking on his door, she had found him missing. Where could he be? She doesn't know but she's not happy and she's determined to sit there until he returns.

She lets out a long bored sigh. He certainly didn't mind keeping her waiting.

Drawing a dagger from her sleeve, she scrapes a fingernail lightly before launching the throwing knife with a suddenness she has perfected.

It buries itself in the portrait of Fire Lord Ozai that hangs on the far wall. She smirks as she gets to her feet and crosses the room to retrieve the blade. A sudden noise behind her prompts the dark haired girl to duck behind a wall curtain.

Face tense with alarm, she turns her head around the drapery to see a figure stumble into the room. As the intruder looks her way, she quickly pulls away to remain hidden. Listening to the stranger move around noisily for a moment before the lantern light is doused, she hears the bed squeak before an overwhelming silence bears down on her.

Slowly, she peaks out again to see nothing but empty darkness. Retrieving her blade cautiously, her piercing gaze never leaving the shadowy room, she silently approaches her beloved's bed with weapon in hand.

She drops the knife and inhales sharply, eyes widening fearfully at the sight before her.

Zuko lies on his bed, face down, body caked with mud and covered in half bleeding cuts, scrapes, and burns. Mai reaches out with a timid hand, but stops short when she sees his back rise with a steady breath. He's just asleep.

She sits on the edge of his bed again, concern washing over her. Extending her hand, she brushes it through his hair, but retracts it quickly to examine the blood and dirt that covers her fingers.

Scowling, she gets up and leaves the room. She's going to figure out what he was doing and put a stop to it. But first, she needs to wash her hands.

* * *

Sokka rolls over in his sleeping bag with a groan, pulling the fabric up around his ears to muffle the annoying sound of some nighttime animal interrupting his precious sleep. After a few moments, he rubs his eyes before cracking them open, unable to ignore the whimpering any longer. Lying still in his bag, he waits as his vision adjusts to the night before scanning the area for the source of the noise. The campfire is barely glowing and both Aang and Toph are asleep, Appa lays beyond them with Momo nearby. Craning his neck, he casts a glance toward Katara's sleeping bag.

Katara!

Sokka sits up suddenly, looking to his sister's empty sleeping roll and realizes she is still out.

Again a soft cry of pain floats across the silence of the campsite.

Crawling from his bed, his heart thumping with worry, he quietly makes his way towards the bushes in the direction of the noise. He reaches his hands into the shrub and parts the leaves and branches so he can peek through. His blue eyes widen at the scene before him.

Kneeling at the water's edge, the Painted Lady – no he thinks, shaking the stupid title from his head - Katara is bent over the softly flowing stream, illuminated by the moonlight. Her arms are covered with angry red burns and he watches as she carefully coats a hand with water and brings it up to her shoulder.

"Aah!" she hisses, wincing as the water begins to repair her damaged skin.

Sokka stares as she heals her wounds, his stomach twisting into a knot when he sees his sister shudder with pain. This had to end. He will not allow her to get hurt like this.

Silently, he shifts back to camp and slinks into his sleeping bag, looking up at the moon briefly before rolling onto his side. Tomorrow he will not let her out of his sight. She's not going to leave camp again.


	6. Healing

Ch: 6 Healing

Kneeling in the dirt, bent over a bucket of water to see her reflection, Katara hurriedly swipes the red makeup over her cheeks, trying desperately to crush the inner worry that had plagued her the whole day. Did he escape? Was he hurt? She didn't know and it scared her, but with the rise of the moon she could now find out.

He was the Blue Spirit: strong, agile, a master of his blades, invicible. He had to be ok. But it didn't stop her heart from racing, her hands from trembling as she picked up her hat and veil. She couldn't rest, wouldn't feel at ease, until she saw him, touched him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sokka's voice startles her as she attempts to exit camp. She had thought everyone was peacefully asleep, their bellies full from supper.

Freezing in her tracks, hat and veil in hand, she slowly turns to face him. He does not look pleased.

"You know where," she counters, her chin stuck out in defiance.

"This has gone on long enough. I was okay with it at first, but it needs to end now. I saw you last night, Katara. You got burned, literally," he states. His voice is even but Katara knows her brother too well and sees the set of his jaw and his tense posture.

"I have to do this," she challenges, her own tone escalating.

"I know you like playing hero but there are bigger things at stake here. Bigger things than this town. Think about it, how does what you're doing here compare to defeating the Fire Lord?"

Katara gulps agitatedly, trying desperately to think of a reply, knowing every second she spends in this stupid argument delays her meeting and she is unable to shake the feeling that the Blue Spirit needed her.

Frowning and shaking her heard in annoyance, she quickly snaps, "Look, Sokka, I just have to do this. These people need me."

No," he replies bluntly, pointing back toward the low fire, "get back to camp."

"Are you ordering me?" she asks, incredulous.

"Yeah, I guess I am!" he shouts, waking both Aang and Toph who look up in surprise but remain silent.

"You can't stop me!" she yells back as she brushes past her brother, furious at his selfishness, not willing to let him stall her meeting with the Blue Spirit any longer.

He reaches out for her and grabs her hand. "Katara! Wait!"

She whirls on him, wrenches her arm away and pushes a finger into his chest. "No! You can't make me turn my back on these people! That's not who I am!"

"Katara! That's not what this is about!" he yells back before his demeanor suddenly changes and he physically deflates, shoulders drooping. Turning away from her, he crosses his arms over his chest and absently hugs himself, looking up at the moon. "I can't…I can't lose you too."

Katara's anger melts away at the statement and instantly she feels ashamed. She's been selfishly fighting him, seeing him as a nuisance and obstacle. She had thought he was trying to control her, stick to his stupid schedule, but now, with his soft confession, she realizes he is afraid for her safety, just as she fears for the safety of the blue spirit. She tentatively reaches out a hand but his voice, low and sad, stops her.

"I couldn't protect Yue or Suki or…mom," he trails off, lost for a moment in memories. "I know I can't stop you. It's just…it's dangerous, Katara. What if something happens to you? How will I know?"

Katara closes the small distance between them and wraps her arms around her brother's frame. Pressed against his back, chin on his shoulder, she offers comfort in her embrace.

"Don't worry, big brother. I can take care of myself."

"I know," he sighs.

Katara gives him a small squeeze then releases him. She picks up her hat and veil and places them on her head, becoming the Painted Lady.

"I'll be extra careful, just for you," she says with a smile, slight teasing in her voice.

Sokka turns to face her and gives her a small grin. "See that you do."

"Besides, someone's watching my back."

Before Sokka can question, the Painted Lady sprints off into the night.

Sokka walks the short distance back to camp. Ignoring the questioning looks of Aang and Toph, he plops to his bedroll, determined to stay awake until she returns.

* * *

Finally. He's been waiting for the sun to set all day, unable to shake the thought that something might have happened to her. No report of the Painted Lady's capture had been delivered, which Zuko was more than relieved to discover, but the thought that she might not have found her way home, that she might be laying wounded, hurting and alone continued to claw through his already frayed nerves. Now, he can alleviate his fears and find out if she's alright. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

He hears her voice and quickly stashes the blue and white mask under a blanket, cursing himself for not hearing the door open. Turning around, he sees Mai lounging in the doorway, eyes trained on him.

"Nowhere," Zuko stammers, "What makes you think I am?"

Mai raises an eyebrow. It's painfully obvious by the black stealth outfit he has on, but she doesn't mention it as she crosses the room and places a hand on his cheek.

"You can tell me," she insists with a smile playing on her lips.

Breaking eye contact with her, Zuko looks to his side, mind racing, and lets a half truth slip out with the admittance, "I—I was going out to find the Painted Lady."

Smirking knowingly before giving him a peck on the lips, Mai jokes, "What do you need her for?"

"That's not what I—" Zuko begins to defend himself, almost paralyzed with fear that Mai might know his true intentions, but cuts himself off, "She needs to be dealt with, you know how much trouble she's been giving us."

Smiling, Mai brushes her hand through his hair.

"Don't worry about it, you're the Fire Prince; let someone else take care of it."

"No!" Zuko shouts abruptly, angrily pushing her hand away, "That's not who I am!"

Mai narrows her eyes at him, focusing on his resentful glare, then turns wordlessly and stalks away. He looks after her, rage twisting within himself. How dare she tell him what to do; how dare she try to stop the Blue Spirit.

The Blue Spirit? His anger fades visibly and his face goes pale as he's taken aback by his own thoughts. The Blue Spirit? Is that who he was?

What was he doing! He had given this up, he had become Prince Zuko, he had his honor, his father's love, Mai's love, he had everything he'd always wanted and now he was foolishly throwing it all away by whimsically becoming something, someone, he was not.

As quickly as he tries to destroy his inclinations to be someone else, a masked hero to the less fortunate, an enemy of the Fire Nation, he suddenly feels a rush of shame when the Painted Lady emerges in his thoughts.

He's been doing this for her; its the only explanation he allows himself to believe. It wasn't that he found comfort in the mask, that he was defying his father, or that he was helping the people. It was the desperate infatuation he's felt for her, the tainted love that's been drawing him away from who he really is and who he really loves.

Mai's been at his side since he returned to the Fire Nation, trying to ease his transition and make him feel at home in her own way. As troubled and confused as he's been, she's tried to be there for him and when he pushed his worried thoughts aside and focused on her, he found he felt happy. The world consisted of just the two of them and he was happy. He loved her and he's betrayed her by falling for the Painted Lady.

He can't be the Blue Spirit. He is Prince Zuko.

Rushing from his room, he looks both ways for any sight of Mai. Not seeing her, he paces down the hall to find her, snatching a vase of flowers as he goes. Girls like flowers he reasons. She'll forgive his outburst. He decides to check her room and approaches the door determinedly, resolute to apologize. Reaching out to throw the door open, he stops short at hearing Azula's voice.

"He doesn't suspect anything, does he?"

"Of course not," Mai replies in monotone, then almost laughs, "he adores me."

"Good. Keep up..." she pauses a moment, then adds humorously, "whatever it is you've been doing."

"For how long?" Mai questions, seemingly uninterested.

"As long as it takes," Azula insists, then asks, "You're not having second thoughts about this are you? We've come so far already, it would be a shame to—oh, wait, don't tell me you actually feel something for him?"

"Of course not," Mai replies almost too quickly, too fervently, avoiding Azula's predatory gaze, "You and I both know that was a long time ago." She does love Zuko, but she can't let Azula know the truth; she knows the princess too well and doesn't want her feelings taken advantage of. She hesitates slightly before continuing, "Pretending to love him definitely has its perks, but it is kind of cruel to toy with him like this. Even I have a heart."

"And it's as black as mine," Azula snickers, enjoying the finer aspects of manipulating her brother.

"Poor Zuzu never was the bright one, but he isn't entirely incompetent. He did prove himself as a worthy ally in Ba Sing Se, and I want him on my side when father is taken care of. It should be any day now that my contact in the capital disposes of him. Now it's only a matter of winning Zuko's trust."

"He does trust you," Mai replies, "When you're crowned ruler of the Fire Nation, he won't stand against you."

"Yes, he's fallen right into my hands, hasn't he?" Azula smirks, then places a hand on her friend's shoulder, "But I couldn't have done it without you. Keeping him placated, making him feel at home; you've followed my instructions perfectly. I won't forget you when this is over with."

Zuko stands stunned, hearing every word passed between his sister and girlfriend. Anger flushes in and out with confusion and hurt, restricting his instinct is to burst in, reveal himself, fight. He can't move, can barely breathe and with stark clarity he feels his gut twist into a knot. He was a pawn to them, nothing more. The vase of flowers slips absently through his numb fingers and he looks down in surprise as it falls to his feet, exploding on the stone floor. The sound shocks him into action and he turns and runs.

Azula and Mai hear the disturbance and Mai is one step ahead of the princess as she rushes for the door and throws it open. Looking down the hall, she catches a quick glimpse of Zuko as he disappears around the corner.

Turning to face Azula, Mai gasps, "He knows."

"I thought you said he had left!" the princes screeches as she shoves her companion aside, furious that the girl isn't making pursuit and races down the hall after her brother.

Mai watches her go and then looks down at the broken vase in the puddle of water it lays in.

Stooping down, she brushes aside a jagged piece of pottery and picks up the wet, mangled flower. Carefully, she caresses the silken petals with her fingers and remorse consumes her. What has she thrown away by agreeing to help Azula?

She glances down the hallway where the siblings ran and closes her eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wanted to please her best friend and be with Zuko at the same time, but she had failed at both.

Zuko's heart pounds in his chest as he rushes back to his room, a million thoughts screaming through his mind but being pushed aside. He scoops up the mask of the Blue Spirit and straps it on his head in a single movement. No time to get his swords, he leaps over the balcony and disappears into the night.

Azula runs into her brother's room, finds nothing out of place, and sprinting to the closed balcony doors, flings them open. Gripping the railing with intensity, she scans the night for him, seeing nothing.

The Blue Spirit runs through the streets, the shocked, numb feeling wearing off with each stride he takes, and being replaced by emotions he thought he'd never have to feel again. Sorrow, betrayal, anguish as raw as the day he was banished well inside of him. His body works like a machine, arms and legs pumping like pistons, but it is only in a pure effort of will that he prevents the shuddering ache inside him to escape his lips, swallowing it down only to have it strip and tear at the fake resolve he has built. His silent anguish is only evident by the tears that spill down his cheeks behind the blue and white mask that hides his identity. But that identity was a lie. Everything was a lie. He loved Mai and she was just playing with him. Azula, his sister; he had begun to trust her and she was just using him. It was all a lie.

He continues running, trying to escape the emotions that doggedly follow him.

He notices Fire Nation guards ahead. They spot him and bear their weapons.

"Hey, you! It's after curfew!"

The Blue Spirit ignores their warning and breaks down a side street. The guards rush after him but find the darkened lane empty. He races along the rooftops now, unseen by the guards below, desperately running to some unknown destination. His foot catches on a roof tile and he falls forward, landing in an inelegant heap.

He stays there, sprawled, palms bleeding, clutching at the fabric of his shirt above his excruciatingly beating heart. Breathing ragged, body aching; his thoughts drift into old fears and doubts. Maybe his father didn't even want him back. Maybe that's why he sent him to this wretched town.

And Mai! His thoughts return to her again unwilling and his body convulses as a single sob escapes his clenched teeth. All the time they had spent together, joking in their own way, holding hands in the garden, kissing under the moon—he loved her. But it was all fake. From her own lips he heard that it was all an act orchestrated by her and Azula.. But to him, it was real.

He forces his thoughts of her out of his mind and suddenly jolts into reality, staring face down into the roofing and regaining the feeling in his limbs. He can't do this. He has no one now. He always had Uncle before. Iroh had always been there for wisdom and guidance, but now...

Her.

He could see her; she would help him. The Painted Lady.

The revelation washes over him like a cooling rain and, remembering their rendezvous point, he manages to get to his feet, hoping he isn't too late. He runs with errant moonbeams guiding his path, slides off the roof into the alleyway and dashes down the cobble stone.

She stands illuminated in the moonlight, motionless, waiting for him. He stumbles into their secret meeting place. She nods to his presence, not seeing his tear stained face or the pain that surges inside him.

"I need you're help," the Blue Spirit cries pathetically, falling to his knees before her and not bothering to hide his voice, "Please, help me."

The Painted Lady looks at her masked friend with confusion, resisting the urge to run to him, to comfort him. She's filled joy to see he's alright, that he escaped the battle the night before, but he's broken their understood code not to speak to each other, sounding wounded, in pain, and she hasn't the slightest idea why.

"What's—" she says in her normal voice, catches herself and disguises it, "What's wrong?"

"It was a lie," his voice nothing more than a rasp, shaking his head from side to side as his entire body trembles, "it was all a lie."

The Painted Lady stoops down on one knee and urges her blue ally softly, "Tell me."

"I—I can't," the Blue Spirit replies, his voice choked by tears. He's almost hysterical now, shivering with unspent adrenaline and he finally tears his eyes from the ground and looks up, voice cracking, "You don't understand."

"I'll help you," she says reassuringly.

"You don't understand!" he shouts now, ripping his mask off and revealing his scarred face.

The Painted Lady's eyes grow wide in shock as she recoils and is suddenly on her feet, backing up and bumping into the wall behind her. Zuko! It was Zuko!

She inhales raggedly, shock and rage running through her tense frame as she glares at him furiously. Zuko, the stupid, arrogant, manipulative prince who had betrayed her and made her question her own integrity. The boy that had pursued them, attacked them, captured them. The very embodiment of all the pain and suffering that the Fire Nation had caused the other nations. Of all the people in the world, why did the Blue Spirit have to be him!

She and the Blue Spirit had worked so well together, they were friends, they were so alike—she loved him. The way he protected her, respected her, fought along side her; it was all like a dream come true. And now, once again, Zuko had taken something away from her. It was all fake, another of his vicious schemes no doubt. But to her, it was all real.

He's fought her viciously, betrayed her trust, and hurt her friends. Because of him Aang almost died. She hates him! He is the monster without a conscious. His is the face of everything she stands against. He is her enemy. He...sits before her on his knees, face buried in his hands, tears leaking through his fingers. Her features soften and she spies the mask on the ground near him, the friendly face staring up at her.

"You were the only one I could come to..." he speaks in a sobbing whisper, unable to say more.

He came to her for help. "I will never ever turn my back on people who need me!" her conscience shouts as she stares at the broken boy in front of her.

Trembling with confusion and uncertainty, she takes a hesitant step forward, eyes glued to the firebender that can't meet her tentative gaze. She raises a hand and casts off her hat and veil. Drawing a stream of water from her waterskin, she shakily bends it to her face, washing away the red makeup that acts as her disguise. Taking two more steps, she places a hand on his bowed head.

"I do understand."

Zuko remembers the voice, that voice that mocked him at the North Pole, taunted him in the crystal caves and looks up in surprise, recognizing her dark features and blue eyes through the traces of red makeup.

"I want to help you," Katara chokes out, unsure if she really means it as tears slide down her cheeks and a lump grows in her throat, "but you need to make a choice."

Zuko continues to stare at her in aching disbelief. It was her, the Avatar's waterbender, Katara. Of all the people the Painted Lady could have been, it was her. He'd seen her blue eyes, her waterbending, but the idea that the Painted Lady and Katara were one and the same never even touched his thoughts.

"We've been here before," Katara continues, forcing the words out, her tone wavering between bitterness and sorrow, "and you betrayed me. I don't know if I'm making the biggest mistake of my life, or offering you the mercy you could never deserve, but I want to believe that the man behind the mask is who you've become."

"It is me," he stutters softly, "I can't go back."

"Then come with me."

She holds out her hand invitingly, a hesitant smile touching her lips.

He is torn but knows his decision was already made when he learned of Azula's treachery, Mai's deception, and sought out the only person he thought could help him. He thinks it strange that this same person turned out to be his enemy and is now the only person he can trust.

With a deliberate slowness, he reaches up and slides his pale hand into hers.

Her skin is soft but her resolve is strong as she pulls him to his feet.

Noticing the blood smeared from his hand to hers, she frowns and speaks with concern. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing." It is not a lie. It is nothing compared to his internal pain at being betrayed by everyone who was close to him.

"Here, let me," she says as she uncorks her water skin, covering her hands in the liquid and taking his wounded hands in hers.

He's stunned at the feelings that wash over him from the simple healing. The coolness of her touch calms his aching consciousness and he wonders if she knows the extent of his spiritual relief.

"Who would've thought that out of all the people I've healed in this town, all the people in the Fire Nation, that I'd heal you," she says softly as they walk away into the night, together, leaving behind the mask and the veil.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Originally this was going to be the last chapter, but after further consideration and inspiration, fuzzytomato and I have decided to include one more chapter to this story. Stay tuned, it'll be worth it ;) 


	7. Destiny

Ch: 7 Destiny

Zuko follows Katara complacently, head bowed, black hair falling across his forehead, fluttering into his eyes, his golden gaze boring into the ground at his feet. His heart aches, but for a new reason that's wormed itself into his burdened conscious. He has lost his crown, any hope of returning home, the supposed love of his girlfriend, and now he's lost the Painted Lady – she wasn't real. Looking up, he watches the back of the Avatar's waterbender, her brown hair swishing and bouncing as she walks and with painful clarity, realizes he misses the easy, pleasant, uncomplicated relationship he had with his companion that was now replaced by an awkward, suffocating silence with a girl who he knew only as an enemy.

He doesn't know where they are going, and suddenly, the implicit trust he had given the Painted Lady no longer applies. Betrayal fresh in his mind, faith wavering, he pushes the question out of his throat.

"Where are we going?"

"To finish what we started."

Zuko abruptly stops walking.

Katara continues a few steps before realizing he isn't following and stops as well. Letting out a long sigh, she turns to look at the thoroughly emotionally beaten boy behind her.

Their eyes lock and Zuko's brow furrows as he asks wearily, "Are you just using me too?"

"No!" Katara blurts urgently, taking a step forward before her feelings pull her back to stand still, looking at the ground. Her arms fold protectively over her chest, unfold, then refold as she begins again, "We've done so much for these people, but they're going to continue to suffer unless the mines are destroyed. We have to do this."

Zuko hears her words but they feel alien to him. Was it really them who started this, or was it the Blue Spirit and Painted Lady? Were they, two enemies from warring nations, really capable of finishing the work that the heroic spirit companions had started?

"I don't know," Zuko manages with uncertainty.

Pulling her gaze from the road, Katara looks up to the firebender, sighing once again, "It was different when we wore masks."

"Things have changed," Zuko replies, raising his head slightly, barely meeting her gaze.

He might have been able to do it with the Painted Lady, but she was gone and now he was with Katara. His feelings for the Lady beg to be acknowledged, but he ignores them as he struggles to find the strength to follow the waterbender. He has an unpleasant history with her, and though she says she wants to help him, he finds it difficult to accept. He doesn't deserve the chance she's giving him, and suddenly he hopes that she _is_ using him; they'll destroy the mine together and then she'll leave and he'll be free to crawl away from the world.

"Alright," he finally says, causing Katara to smile weakly, "Lets go."

* * *

"What were you thinking?" Katara asks suddenly, breaking the heavy silence between them as they head through the darkness toward the mine. 

"When?" Zuko asks blankly, looking towards her but seeing she hadn't looked his way when she'd spoken.

"When you found out it was me, that I was the Painted Lady. What was your reaction?"

Zuko drops his gaze back to the muddy ground, contemplating, as they continue to walk. He answers after a short moment. "Surprised."

"Is that all?" Katara asks, turning her head to look at him this time.

A glimmer of the Painted Lady drifts across Zuko's vision, and for a moment, merges with his image of Katara, but he forces it away, once again telling himself that the waterbender was not the Painted Lady, and his love does not translate.

"Yeah," he finishes, then looks her direction, "What were you thinking?"

Katara looks away, her heart aching again and her throat growing sore.

"Surprised," she manages, unable to meet Zuko's gaze.

"Is that all?" he questions.

A rush of answers flood over Katara and she physically cringes under their impact. Paralyzed. Shocked. Enraged. Tricked. Betrayed. Disgusted. Bitter. Confused. Scared. Disappointed. Heartbroken. Hopeful.

"Wary," she finishes, suppressing the breakdown and confession of her true feelings to Zuko when he couldn't possibly understand what she felt for the Blue Spirit or how those emotions had blurred onto the firebender.

"I don't blame you," Zuko nods, unaware of her inner turmoil, "I can't even trust myself anymore. No matter what path I choose, I always end up on the wrong side in the end. You're right not to trust me."

"Zuko, that's not who I am."

"I know, its just...I don't know..."

"And that's not who you are either! You can choose the right path and you can stay on it!"

"Katara, even as the Blue Spirit I couldn't do it. When the time came to make a decision, I chose to be the Fire Nation's Prince Zuko because that's all I'll ever choose to be."

But you didn't, Katara thinks, you came to me...

"Maybe you're just confused as to who Prince Zuko is," she mutters, knowing the same confusion swells within her.

* * *

"If you had done your job this wouldn't have happened," Azula snaps, pacing furiously before taking a seat. 

Mai remains silent under the princess' glower, standing stalk still in front of her.

"Do you have any idea where he could have gone?"

Mai stares at Azula without a single emotion flitting across her face, remembering finding Zuko on his bed, wounded. When she heard the reports that the Painted Lady was accompanied by a masked man, it didn't take her more than a second to put two and two together. She had been less concerned with his actions than she had been with his neglect of her; as long as he was hers and gave her the attention she wanted she didn't mind what choices he made. But now...now he was gone, with the Painted Lady no doubt. She looks up at Azula, meeting the angry girl's fierce glare, and smirks.

"I don't know where he would have gone."

Scowling disgustedly, Azula orders, "Out."

But maybe, Mai thinks as she turns to leave the room, maybe there's still a chance. Maybe if she finds him, explains things, he'll understand.

Azula remains seated, frowning in contemplation, clicking her fingernails on the chair.

Ty Lee, silent this whole time, somersaults out of her seat across the room and plops down next to her friend.

"Don't worry Azula, I'm sure we'll find him eventually."

"I am certain of that," Azula replies vaguely.

"But, whats wrong then?" Ty Lee asks in confusion, "I thought you didn't think we'd find him?"

"We won't have to find him, he'll come to us," Azula explains, "Zuzu isn't aware of it, but we've both hired the same man to do our dirty work. While the assassin refused to reveal the objective Zuko set for him, it was only a matter of paying the right price to have my business take priority."

"...and how will we find Zuko?" Ty Lee interrupts curiously, not seeing the princess' point.

"Zuko will go back to the assassin, of that I am sure, and when he does he'll have to answer to me and the entire Fire Nation for the assassination of our father."

Wide eyed, Ty lee gasps, "You're going to blame him for your plan! It's brilliant, no one will ever suspect you and—wait..." she trails off, her expression losing its excitement as she asks with concern, "What will happen to Zuko?"

Getting out of her chair and walking away from her friend, Azula replies coldly, "It's out of my hands. He's chosen his own fate."

* * *

As they approach the mine, the silence between them born of awkwardness grows into necessity. Crouching low, they return to the scene of their fight the night before, both pushing away the overwhelming feelings that come with defeat and attempting to focus on the task at hand. The cart that had aided them in hauling the blasting jelly only exists in broken fragments and splinters littering the ground and Zuko swallows hard, remembering being hopelessly pinned, knowing he too could've been scattered in pieces if it hadn't been for the Lady's intervention. 

Katara brings him back to the present when her hand ghosts across his arm and instinctively he flinches away. Averting her eyes as she bites her lip, hurt at his reaction, she points to the entrance of the mine where two guards stand watch, unaware of their presence, and safe in their belief that the two enemies of the Fire Nation would not attempt another attack so soon.

Zuko peers into the darkness, cautious, looking for evidence of more guards. Seeing footprints nearby, he narrows his eyes. Hesitantly tapping his companion's shoulder, he begins to point to himself and use hand signals to convey his wishes but stops, remembering he no longer needs to disguise his voice.

"I'm going to find the others."

She nods.

He creeps away into the shadows and she watches with confused longing. Tearing her gaze away, she focuses her energy on dispatching the guards ahead of her.

With one quick motion, she gathers the moisture from the still damp ground and separates the two guards with a wall of water. Moving her hands to the side, the men are tossed in opposing directions and quickly ice crystals begin to slither over them, until they are stuck fast.

Suddenly, a plume of flame lights up the night sky, and peering around the corner of the building, Katara catches a glimpse of a man running toward her. Scrambling behind him was Zuko, fists wreathed in fire.

"Stop him!" he yells.

She does not hesitate and immediately freezes the ground beneath the fleeing soldier's feet. He slips, and then catches a jet of water in his chest. Hitting the ground with a loud smack, he lays unmoving.

"Couldn't handle one?" she asks a smirk on her lips.

"There were three," he answers, brushing past her toward the mine entrance.

Unfazed, Katara turns and follows him.

"We should be able to block off the opening with our bending," Zuko states, looking at the rock outcroppings that lay overhead.

Brushing past him, Katara walks into the darkness of the mine without faltering, "We need to do more than block the entrance, we need to destroy this whole tunnel."

When they enter, Katara lets out a small gasp as Zuko dispels the crushing darkness with a ball of flame in his palm. All around them the light reveals low ceilings and crumbling walls, dangerously held together by nothing more than wooden beams. With every breath, they can feel the noxious fumes and clinging dust entering their lungs.

Inhaling, Zuko coughs. How could he have condoned this? How could anyone work in such conditions for days, weeks, months on end?

Walking over to a wooden beam, Katara pulls out a trail of water and begins slicing through it, saying, "Help me weaken the beams, then we can collapse it from the outside. Careful, we don't want it to come down while we're still in here."

Zuko nods and begins bending a string of fire in a similar fashion as the waterbender.

This girl isn't the same as the Painted Lady. What were the silent gestures and pleasant touches are now strict orders and unnecessary warnings. Or maybe he's just not used to being spoken to while committing these treasonous acts toward his nation. Splintering a wooden beam with a searing whip of fire, he tells himself to stay focused. There's no use in thinking about the Painted Lady or what could have been anymore.

Katara harshly chips into a wooden support, her face tense from the thoughts inside her rather than the work she performs. She wants her feelings for the Blue Spirit to disappear and be forgotten now that she knows who he really is. Despite this, those feelings of affection continue to project themselves on the boy who works with her nearby and she's furious with herself for it. Furious and confused, because she's torn between giving in to the desire and fighting it.

"That's the last one," Zuko's voice echoes softly through the tunnel.

Outside now, they both breathe deeply, feet spread in their bending stances, Katara feeling the water around her and Zuko feeling the fire within. Simultaneously they let their elements rush into the mine, fire and water swirling and biting at each other as they roar and hiss down the cavern, thrashing against the earthen walls.

They hear the groaning of timbers, feel the shaking of the earth as it folds in on itself, rocks and wood tumbling together in a cacophony, and suddenly the hillside collapses. Despite the previous night's rain and the flooding torrent Katara has unleashed on the dreaded mine, dust explodes into the air and for a moment they are blinded.

With the mine destroyed, the citizens of the town would no longer be forced to deal with the poor conditions they were formerly under. Undoubtedly they would be the ones to dig a new entrance to the collapsed mine tunnels, but working in the open air was exponentially better than in the nauseous conditions inside, and by the time the damage was fixed the war would be over and the forced labor would end as well. Covered in the dust coughed out in the mine's dying breath, the two benders walk silently away from their victory.

Trudging through the rubble, Zuko missteps among the debris and loses his balance, but before he falls, Katara reaches out. One hand on his arm, the other on his chest, she steadies him. She looks up to ask if he's alright, but is suddenly caught. He is covered in dust and dirt from head to toe, he smells of soot and ash, but she cannot speak, can barely breathe. He feels the same as the Blue Spirit, she wants to believe it's him, and the desire overtakes her. It fills her, swallows her, washes over her and she is swept away in the torrent. Heart thudding in her ears, her hands fist into the fabric of his clothes and she pulls him toward her, crushing her mouth to his. His lips are softer than she hoped, warmer than she expected, and she ignores the faint taste of dust as she urgently tries to resolve the turmoil within herself through a kiss.

Zuko barely has time to register the pained hunger of her expression before her lips make contact with his. Shocked, eyes wide, stunned into stillness, for the briefest moment he doesn't move, doesn't think, until he feels her draw the tension out of his muscles, feels the softness of her face so close to his, and as he relaxes, his eyes flutter shut. His mouth responds to hers and his hands drift to her waist.

As suddenly as it started, Katara's eyes fly open in horror as her hands unclench Zuko's clothing and she pushes herself away from him. Zuko's hands linger where her waist had been and he worriedly meets her abashed expression.

"Zuko I'm sorry!" Katara quickly cries out, apologizing franticly, "I didn't mean to—It's just—with the Blue Spirit I felt—and when I found out—I'm just so confused—I loved him and—I know it's different now—I didn't mean to—"

She doesn't even comprehend his movement as she agonizingly tries to explain herself and she's forced to an abrupt stop as his lips gently descend upon hers. Her protests and explanations die in her throat as she leans in, her eyes drifting closed. She feels his fingertips brush her cheek then tangle in her hair as he softly, slowly, kisses away her inner chaos.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, breaking the kiss and the spell. Looking into her each other's eyes, they realize that with or without the mask and veil, they were Zuko and Katara the whole time, whether they knew it or not.

"So what do we do now?" he asks in a whisper, his mind made up and a piece of his destiny realized.

She gives small smile and holds out her hand, "Come with me."

* * *

**End Note: **And so it ends. Thanks for reading and we'd love to hear what you thought:) 

This story was written by both myself, Steamboat Ghost, and my writing partner in crime fuzzytomato. We each worked equally hard on this and it couldn't possibly have turned out the way it did without our constant exchange of ideas and cooperative writing.

We plan on writing more together in the future, but whether we'll get to a sequel or not, well, our answer to that right now is, "If we do, it will be a hell of a while later". Hearing what you think about this story will certainly be part of our motivation, but we aren't making any promises.

Want more reading? Check out our other stories:

Fuzzytomato's "Brothers in Arms" takes place after the "Crossroads of Destiny" as an alternate history in which Sokka and Zuko must overcome their differences to escape the clutches of Azula. No romance or explicit Zutara here, but its an awesome story with lots of tension, adventure, and humor. Tomato's had quite some experience in writing fanfiction, bu this was her first serious endeavor at writing an epic avatar story (and its rocks from start to finish).

Steamboat Ghost's "The Swiftly Tilting Balance" is a post-war story that started during the long wait for season three. Most of the gaang's dynamics remain at the status quo they were in at the end of season two, with the exception that Zuko has been added to their group and a few other minor things. Minimal romance here (nowhere near as much as "Come With Me"), but plenty of action, conflict, and varying character interaction. Ghost is relatively new to fanfiction and this is and continues to be his first project (you can expect that the early chapters won't be nearly as good or filled out as the later ones).


End file.
